The Ghosts of Trondheim
by jinjyaa
Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri faces the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.
1. Scaling Trondheim

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri faces the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to _Kyou Kara Maou_ of course.

AN: supporting materials on the "homepage" link on my author profile include a number of illustrations, a map of Shin Makoku, and a longish summary of the prequel _The Trouble with Trolls_, which was very long and OC-centric (but the summary has enough background to read the present story). Executive summary: the domain of Trondheim is the Mazoku non-demon bastion of Shin Makoku, dominated by demon-troll mixtures. The trolls were almost entirely genocided by Shinou.

This story is set just after my story _Epilogue_ – Yuuri and Wolfram finally got married a month or so ago. _The Trouble with Trolls_ ended perhaps four months before that.

**Chapter 1 – Scaling Trondheim**

Yuuri gazed up at the Trondheim Escarpment in a fey mood. Mirrored sunglasses from Tokyo shielded his eyes from the glare of the ice-bound sheer cliffs above. He'd been looking at this grey and white wall for most of the day, riding through the domain of Walde, without realizing it. His fey mood was due to complete and utter surrender to the folly of this honeymoon – _family vacation_ – ski trip.

"High, isn't it?" he quipped to his lovely newlywed husband. Wolfram stood beside him in matching shearling coat and boots and adorable Gwendal-knit hat and mittens. Yuuri's brown knitted set featured cute little bear ears. Wolfram's was fluffy dove grey knitted… _rat_, Yuuri decided. _They're rat ears._ Wolfram's glorious green eyes and red nose shone forth unmarred by sunglasses. "Have you taken your dramamine, love?" Yuuri inquired. Wolfram's motion sickness responded well to dramamine.

Wolfram nodded unhappily, beholding a tiny toy box decending the cliff. It was already halfway down, but… just barely visible due to the distance. The ropes of the elevator sang in the cold wind falling down off the mountains. "We should have gone to a beach on honeymoon, instead," he reiterated.

"It's winter, pretty vixen," said Wolfram's father Manfred, as Manfred and his newlywed husband Aldrich rejoined them. Manfred and Aldrich and their sons Efram and Dietrich were with them on honeymoon – _family vacation_ – because they hadn't been at Yuuri and Wolfram's impromptu wedding, nor been on honeymoon themselves yet. "Too cold for the beach. Just right for skiing."

"We're in luck," reported Aldrich. "The wind's not quite bad enough to shut it down, so we can go up tonight." They had to take their honeymoon – _family vacation_ – in winter, because Aldrich planned to plant the seeds of their children – Yuuri and Wolfram's as well as Aldrich and Manfred's – in the spring. Aldrich would lovingly tend the seedling that would become Yuuri and Wolfram's firstborn biological child, along with his own, every day from March to late October. Their guilt level regarding this service made it unthinkable to say no.

Yuuri thought he heard an involuntary squeak from Wolfram. _And we would want to go up this monstrosity with the wind _almost_ too bad because… _"Ah, Aldrich? Why is this a good thing?"

"Oh, it's much warmer in the afternoon – there's no sun in the morning on this western face. Granted, it's a bit… exhiliarating… when it's this windy. But we'll all have a good laugh and hot cider at the top, eh?"

"Your _father_ went up this?" inquired Brendan Lord Gratz of Aldrich. "Isn't Friedrich afraid of heights?" Brendan and his son Trenton were with them on honeymoon – _family vacation_ – because he'd never visited Trondheim, despite being a close cousin of the ruling family and ruler of a neighboring domain. But he'd finally become friends with his close age-mate and peer Erick Lord Trondheim over the summer during the Dragon Insurrection. So of course Aldrich invited him along.

"Um – oh, _Hasgrud!_ Excuse me," Aldrich failed to answer, heading off to greet yet another acquaintance amongst the crowd at the Escarpment transport base. He ducked a snowball thrown by Greta. Greta came with them on honeymoon – _family vacation_ – because Efram, Dietrich, and Trenton got to come. The three boys formed another snowball team.

Conrad and Yozak returned Greta's snowball volley. Conrad was along for pretty much the same reason as Brendan – he'd never visited his newfound friend and ally Lord Erick's home at Trond Hall. His lover Yozak had joined him for fun, though as a spy he'd visited Trond Hall _often_.

In theory, they would help Brendan watch the children. So that Yuuri and Wolfram could relax and enjoy their honeymoon. With Manfred and Aldrich. Yuuri's father in law and Wolfram's liege lord. At Trond Hall, which was Aldrich's mother's home. Aldrich's father Friedrich was in residence there too, at the moment…

Murata Ken helped Greta return fire. Murata hadn't supplied an excuse for why he'd come along on Yuuri's honeymoon. Given past experience, Yuuri wasn't sure he wanted to think about what that meant.

Cecilie, Gwendal, Annissina, Adelbert, Günter, and Giesela weren't invited. Had they made threatening noises about coming, for very good reason every one of them would have been _disinvited_, in no uncertain terms. They were watching small Frieda and Bertram at home instead.

"So, Manfred, you've been up this way before," said Yuuri. "How long until we enjoy this _'good laugh and cup of hot cider'_ at the top?"

"Well, _son,_" said Manfred, who rather enjoyed Yuuri's involuntary twitch, "we'll stop for a cup and enjoy the sunset at the top of this elevator. Glorious view."

"I thought they were called gondolas," said Wolfram.

"The gondolas are after the elevator," said Manfred. "We'll probably stop for the night after the second gondola, around midnight. There's a nice inn on the road between the second and third gondola."

Yuuri and Wolfram turned their heads in unison to stare at him. "How _many_ gondolas?"

"I think five gondola rides," said Manfred, with a demonic green-eyed smile. "And another elevator," he added. "Another two days to Trond Hall, if the weather holds."

"What exactly is the difference between an elevator and a gondola?" inquired Yuuri.

"Elevators go up and down. Gondolas go more sideways than up. Between mountains, over ravines, and such. Gorgeous panoramic views. Though of course, they all go up and down. Trond Hall's at 6,000 feet, I think. And the pass is higher."

There was no question in Yuuri's mind – Manfred was enjoying telling them this. Yuuri pictured them all hanging suspended from a rope, in a box, dangling over inaccessible mountain valleys thousands of feet below. "And these are… safe?"

"Oh, yes. There are fewer fatalities on the Escarpment than on any of the other passes into Trondheim." Of course, the northern Gratz Pass was shut down altogether for winter. The southern Kriegsbad Pass would have added another two weeks travel time to their journey. There were no other ways into the mountain interior of Trondheim. Yuuri used to wonder about that, in his early geography lessons with Günter – why the domain of Trondheim, so centrally located amongst Shin Makoku's domains, was added last, and almost no one ever went there.

_Because it's hell to get there._

"Let's wait inside the guest house and warm up for a while," said Yuuri affably. He feared his beautiful blond firebug husband was about to scorch his pretty grey-tufted rat ears.

After a half hour or so, Aldrich beckoned them back outside, saying it was time to go. Yuuri looked up the cliff and frowned in puzzlement. The box he'd spotted descending before was still descending. Though it was… a lot larger than he'd thought. "Aldrich, I thought we were waiting for that?" he asked, pointing.

"No, that's a cargo container. We were waiting until there were enough people to fill a medium passenger container. There are too many of us for a small one. And you don't want to ride in an underloaded car – they get kinda bouncy..." Wolfram looked a little green at this statement, so he switched to, "Ah, we were lucky. A lady half-troll showed up. That'll help Diet and Brendan and Trenton enjoy the trip." A lady troll's don't-worry-be-happy pheromones would work wonders on all the troll-descended members of the party, including Aldrich if he chose to enjoy it. It wouldn't do the rest of the party any good, though.

They walked out to the base of the rope-elevator. Aldrich's half-troll friend Hasgrud was there, happily explaining how everything worked to Manfred, Brendan, and Trenton, who adored that sort of thing. A half dozen tiny goblins – _rolled? surely not carried?_ – conveyed a windowed container about the size and shape of a city bus to the base of the ropes, a couple part trolls walking in front and behind.

Yuuri stopped dead, affable expression firmly affixed on his face. "Ah, Aldrich?" Aldrich stopped and turned back to Yuuri. "Could you explain to me exactly how that work party operates?"

"The people moving the container, Sire?" Aldrich asked, perplexed. Yuuri nodded, face still amiable, but clearly demanding an explanation. He did not correct Aldrich's use of the term _'Sire'_ whilst on vacation. "I could… ask one of them to explain… no? Well, what I see is two part-trolls carrying a container and six goblins stabilizing it. Is… that what you were asking?" Aldrich waved Hasgrud over.

"The goblins appear to be the only ones touching the container," said Yuuri.

"Ah, Hasgrud! Thank you," said Aldrich. "Um, His Majesty is concerned… that the goblins are being overworked by the part-trolls, is that… the issue? Sire?"

"Yes," replied Yuuri.

Eight-footer Hasgrud also turned to watch the little party, face blandly troll-pleasant under dark sunglasses. "With respect, Sire, the part-trolls are moving the container. The goblins keep it from rocking side to side. It's all being done with earth majutsu."

\ eight feet is 244 cm \

"Are you certain of this, gentlemen?" insisted Yuuri.

Aldrich shrugged. His majutsu was fire healer, not earth.

Hasgrud nodded. "Quite certain, Sire. Goblins have wonderful dexterity, but not the power to move that heavy a container so far so quickly. Part-trolls have more power, but controlling wobble either takes many more trolls to over-power the problem, or many points of focus with excellent control." He actually meant part-trolls, as Yuuri easily supplied for himself. To his knowledge, there was only one full troll left, and most mixtures much above half-blood troll, stayed in the troll reservation well within the Trondheim mountains. "Does that handle your concerns, Sire?" Actually his blank sunglasses were directed at Aldrich, face still trollishly impassive. Aldrich micro-shrugged.

"My concern is whether the goblins are being treated as equal citizens of Shin Makoku, as is their right. Could one of them be boss of that party, or only the trolls?"

"_Hunh?_" said Hasgrud, rather loudly. _"/What the hell is this midget idiot talking about, Aldrich?/_" he demanded in Trondish – the troll tongue, which Yuuri's magically powered world wide translation ability, did not understand. Because Shinou had never understood trolls.

_"/Thank you, Hasgrud, I'll take it from here…/"_ Aldrich replied. "Oh, and Hasgrud, I hope you're coming with us to Trond Hall?"

"Of course," agreed Hasgrud, face restored to troll-bland. He escaped quickly back to the elevator and its more _reasonable_ clutch of stupid little demon tourists.

"Sire," said Aldrich softly, "No. Trolls would never take orders from a goblin. Nor from a pure demon, for that matter. The agreements hammered out this past summer give equal rights to _protection under the law_, not the right to be treated equally in all situations. That would not be practical –"

"I see intelligent people –" Yuuri began.

"Then you are seeing _wrongly_. With all due respect. Sire," insisted Aldrich, striking a knife-edge balance between being polite and overly forceful with his liege lord Yuuri Maou. "Trolls are far more intelligent than goblins, or demons. Their earth majutsu powers are vastly stronger. To demand that Trondheim treat them as equal workers is like demanding that we put a 10-year-old girl, a dragon, and a Kraken on a work party together, and let the little girl give the orders because it's _her turn_. It would not _work_, Sire."

Yuuri looked like he was about to argue this further, his justice penchant fully aroused, but Wolfram put a hand on his arm. "Yuuri… there were many sessions at the Bielenfeld Conference last summer to hammer out the details of inter-racial equites and inequities. Part of the compromise was inspectors to make sure no-one is being unfairly dominated. Wasn't that right, Aldrich? Yuuri, perhaps you could interview one of those inspectors. And for now, let these good people do their jobs, and let us get on with our honeymoon. Please, love?"

Yuuri, lips still pursed, nodded slowly. "Lord Aldrich, at your earliest convenience, I _would_ like to interview one of these inspectors."

"Ha," breathed Aldrich, the Shin Makoku military response that roughly meant, _'Yes, O bossy one'_, though Yuuri mistakenly believed it meant _'Yes, Sir'_, words which no soldier would properly address to_ him_. "If I happen to see an inspector before Trond Hall," _as though I'd _happen_ to notice that – I'm Lord of Bielenfeld, not a Trondheim transport tech,_ "I'll be sure to invite him to an interview, Sire. Otherwise… I will request that Lord Erick arrange this for you." _And hopefully between now and then you'll recall it's not my place to demand an accounting from my peer Lord Erick. It's yours._

Aldrich strode away to the elevators ahead of them. Yuuri asked Wolfram, "Ah, is it my imagination, or was Aldrich a bit…?"

Wolfram said, "Frosty. Yes. Yuuri… it's really not a good idea to piss Aldrich off. Especially heading into a situation he understands, and you don't."

Yuuri frowned. "Are you suggesting Lord Bielenfeld would sabotage me?"

"No…" sighed Wolfram. "He just won't prevent you from sabotaging yourself."

"Hardly his job," responded Yuuri righteously.

_Yes, that's the problem,_ thought Wolfram in resignation. _Though if you don't piss him off, Aldrich will help you anyway, even when you don't know you need it. You don't have a clue how much he helps you, either, because he rarely admits it. _But Wolfram had tried and failed to explain this quirk of his liege lord to Yuuri before. "Oh, look, Yuuri, I think they're starting to board the elevator."

The elevator was comfortable enough, with plenty of padded seats, arranged so most faced the wide open view side of the car. A gaggle of solicitous goblins inquired where and with whom each passenger wished to be seated. A rather bored looking female elf seemed to be supervising them, which raised Yuuri's hackles again. But Wolfram's fingers bored into his arm in warning, so Yuuri perforce let the goblins do their job.

The goblins left, and the elf sauntered in. She asked several people to change seats, then addressed the group. "Your attention, please. For everyone's safety, you _must _remain seated, in your _current_ seats, with _no_ exceptions, until told to disembark. This will be _strictly_ enforced." She half-drew a wicked long knife from its scabbard, then thrust it home again to underscore her point. "There are buckets beneath every seat, should you need one." She repeated the whole announcement in Trondish. Yuuri couldn't help mentally supplying the airplane equivalents.

The elf stuck her head out the window and yelled, "Well balanced, good job!" to the goblins, with a thumbs-up. The elevator engaged with the ever-moving rope ladder, and within a couple seconds, the passenger car started to move with a sudden jerk. Wolfram, beside Yuuri, dug his fingers into his arm again briefly, but slowly relaxed. After the initial jerk, the motion of the car was fairly smooth.

"So how do we make the car rock?" Wolfram's brother Efram quipped to Greta, more loudly than necessary.

"You _don't_," said the elf, half-drawing and slamming home her knife again with a clang. To the group, she added, "Anyone who needs a bucket, feel free to puke on the blond brat instead." Several passengers chuckled. Efram grinned at Greta.

Yuuri looked over his shoulder at the view – for Wolfram's sake, they had seats facing the rock face – as Walde and the rest of Shin Makoku dropped away beneath them below the westering sun. Though there were empty seats, Aldrich and Brendan had their sons seated on their laps, as did several other passengers with pre-adolescents. The elven enforcer allowed the kids to clamber up to kneeling on their fathers, within their father's arms, so they could get a better view as they cleared the forest. The major Walde town of Bruschella emerged below them.

"Wolfram," Yuuri breathed. "Look, love." He held Wolfram's hand as the blond cautiously peeked sideways at the view, then turned to drink it in fully. He smiled and put his far hand around Yuuri's bear-eared head, so they looked back over their shoulders with their heads together.

But as the car rose, so did the wind. "Children seated all the way now, please," warned the attendent. The children were drawn down and secured in their parents' embrace. Yuuri overheard Manfred explain to Efram that the car was hooked onto a quadruple rope ladder at 16 points, and in a worst-case scenario only needed 3 hooks and one rope ladder. Yuuri was finding the safety engineering talk too vivid food for his imagination. But right about then, the huge lady troll began to sing, and most of the passengers joined in.

About two minutes into the song, the car began to rock a bit – under gale force winds, this was inevitable regardless of how many hooks it had – and the elf attendent yelled, "_Trosh!_ Silence!" She was immediately obeyed. She listened a moment, looked over her passengers, then bowed slightly. "Good. Please silence this quickly, each time I ask. For now, please continue singing."

As Wolfram snuggled into his arm, doing his best to sing along, Yuuri reconsidered this belligerant elf attendent. Though she acted bored and lazy while the goblins did the seating, she'd been alert and vigilant ever since. The corrections she'd made to the goblin seating moved two rather large men from the middle to the outer corners, still weight balanced, but on a wider area. Then she'd shifted children of troll ancestry nearer the lady troll – Brendan and Trenton von Gratz had moved from their original seat near Conrad and Yozak. She was OK with the singing, but quick to check that she could stop it instantly. She had a wicked knife and Yuuri had no doubt she was willing to use it. She stayed on her feet, her back to a pole toward rock-face side of the car, casually hanging on to a leather strap above her head with her non-knife hand. Several passengers struck up conversations with her. She chatted readily enough, but her eyes never stopped roaming the rest of the car.

She was petite – about five feet tall, and maybe 85 pounds – but her pose clearly showed her ropy muscle. But if one of the trolls or a man like Conrad or Yozak gave her trouble, Yuuri couldn't imagine what she could do about it. _Maybe trolls would never give her trouble. In fact… _Yuuri shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably at the thought. _Maybe every troll would help her control the elevator. _Those with visible troll ancestry formed about a third of the passengers. But he doubted very much that Tronds of other races would cross them.

\ 85 pounds is 38 kg, 5 feet is 152 cm \

Wolfram shifted, afraid he was the cause of Yuuri squirming. "You alright, love?"

Yuuri smiled at him. "Yeah, just thinking… I should apologize to Aldrich, huh?"

Wolfram nodded vigorously. "Good idea!"

The elevator slowly rose into the dark of a cloud layer, sleet clattering on the windows, gale shuddering the car and occasionally bouncing it. The trolls switched to a rowdier call-and-response chant, still all in Trondish, but the response part was easy to memorize, so they joined in. The elf halted the singing one more time in mid-cloud, listened to the ropes groan and twang a moment, then led the song back up again. They couldn't see the ground any more after the cloud, just a vast expanse of thinly scattered small yellow-pink cottonballs on a darker haze, as the slow winter sun banked down to the horizon. The ride got a little bouncy toward the top, and two people did need their buckets, but the sunset over Shin Makoku was breathtaking from the top.

The elf attendent cut the singing as they neared the top and explained procedures. Those not continuing to the gondola would disembark first, and wait in the yellow area to ensure they claimed all their luggage before any wagons started rolling. Continuing passengers could expect a wait of about 45 minutes in the orange area, which included half of the elevator-top guesthouse. Three horn blasts and an announcement would prompt them to board the wagons. She encouraged them to use the rest rooms and eat here, because the wagon ride would be long and the rest stop at the gondola end might be as short as ten minutes. She suggested that motion sickness sufferers should visit the blue healers' area before eating or drinking. She invited everyone to grab a blanket before boarding the wagons, because the wagons and gondolas were colder than the elevator.

"And I personally thank each and every one of you for your cooperation as passengers. Welcome to Trondheim. _Shamshesh alte'in, gorote._" She bowed, to an enthusiastic round of applause.

The jerk was significantly worse decoupling from the rope ladders, but no one minded, because it was the end. Yuuri waited outside while Wolfram visited the healers. He watched the elf attendent direct the goblins who came to clean out the medium passenger box. A male elf met her with a steaming cup of something, and she appeared to brief him on the passengers, pointing at Efram, Yuuri, Aldrich, and the lady half-troll. When they finished their chat, they butted right shoulders in the high-five equivalent used throughout Shin Makoku's eastern mountains, and the male elf headed for the wagons. She met up with a burly part-troll partway to the inn. After a brief interchange, he traded her a jug for her knife, and she headed indoors.

Aldrich had the boys outside, since they needed to move after sitting still so long. Yuuri wandered over to him. "Aldrich… I owe you an apology for down there. I'm… concerned about how the Race Accords are being followed… ah, everywhere in Shin Makoku, really, not just Trondheim. But I realize that I don't know enough to be so…"

"Apology accepted, Sire – Yuuri," said Aldrich. "Though I'm sure Lord Erick would be happy to discuss how it's going. It's really not my business, in Trondheim."

"I do want to understand what I'm seeing, though." Aldrich micro-shrugged an OK. "That elevator attendant – was she special?"

Aldrich glanced toward the inn with a slight sadness. "You mean the elf cop? She seemed competent."

"Cop," Yuuri repeated. "Oh…" He looked around with fresh eyes. Those belligerant-looking elves spaced along the parapet, by the wagon train, at the path toward the machinery area. They weren't in uniform, but each bore the same wicked long knife. The half-troll who'd given the elevator elf a jug, chatted now with Hasgrud by the inn door. He bore a blade too large for Yuuri, but on his eight-foot frame, amounted to a long knife as well. "He's also a cop?" Yuuri asked, pointing discreetly.

"Ah! I see," said Aldrich. "Yes, the ones with the knives are transport cops. He's likely their boss at this station."

"Trolls always supervise elves?" Yuuri asked, determined to try to understand rather than judge the answer.

This proved easy in the event. Aldrich sighed. "Well, their supervisor is never an elf. Only their boss can give the elf cops booze, Yuuri. I've never met an elf who isn't an alcoholic."

Aldrich himself, Yuuri knew, was an alcoholic, and hadn't had a drink in nearly Wolfram's lifetime. He was also one-eighth elf. Yuuri asked very softly, "Are all part-elves alcoholics?"

"No," Aldrich sighed. "Though… they ought to be very careful with it."

"Why so many cops?" Yuuri asked, then answered his own question. "Oh… two passes and the Escarpment gondolas." The entire economic lifeblood of highland Trondheim, with only three viable arteries – only two, in winter.

Aldrich nodded. "And a whole lot of enemies."

-oOo-

The inn between gondolas was too crowded for the newlywed couples to have rooms to themselves. Their whole party shared two rooms, and Wolfram and Yuuri a narrow bunk. Not that it mattered much. Wolfram took the healers' potions before the first gondola, and happily sleep-walked or just plain slept through the rest of the night.

And they made out better than Aldrich and Manfred, since Aldrich was too broad-shouldered to share a narrow bunk. Manfred slept with Dietrich.

The group unanimously voted Murata a place on the floor. At the top of the elevator, he bought not one, but 3 whole strings of garlic to wear as necklaces, then scored the garlic bulbs until the fumes brought tears to his eyes. He explained this was to ward off the ghosts at night. The courteous goblins tried to suit his seating preferences. The transport cops invariably relocated him to sit _right by them_, to keep an eye on him.

The wagon-train stretches were longer than the gondola rides. But the gondolas swept over vast expanses, the first taking them nearly twenty miles. The Tronds happily put away their sunglasses for the night and kept the gondola dark. Yuuri would have enjoyed silence with the dark, to gaze over those phenomenal, remote mountain valleys below, a rare glow hinting at a settlement of his subjects, isolated by eternal sweeps of snow. He would never reach them, never touch them. Maybe here they never knew or cared his name. But he blessed them all the same.

\ 20 miles is 32 km \

His Trond fellow passengers didn't share his taste for quiet reflection. They also didn't find the dark particularly intimate, being mostly nocturnal. They sang, slow songs of longing when the going was smooth and the silvery snowswept vistas enchanting, rowdy songs when the winds buffeted the little car hanging above the gaping ice-bound ravines, or the wagon road got too bouncy, or odd complicated counting songs that required attention when the swaying proved too much for the ones who hadn't taken potions. As Wolfram slept cuddled in his arms, Yuuri found that almost any fellow traveller – troll or demon, elf or goblin – was perfectly happy to translate the songs and teach them to him. When he introduced himself as Yuuri and asked their names, there was a marked pause. But they saw no one else making any fuss over him as Maou, so they didn't either.

-oOo-

The final elevator _down_ to Trond Hall's broad plateau, came at the tail end of a snowstorm. Though Trond Hall was a popular destination, most travellers accompanied heavy cargo. These had to wait on the packers to make the roads rollable again. Yuuri's party had only personal luggage, so they happily hired light sleighs drawn by charging sheep with attitudes akin to T-Zou's. Aldrich and Hasgrud and Brendan took the reigns and made a race of it, whooping all the way, virgin snow flying in rainbow-tinged clouds of diamonds in the sun. Yuuri was too distracted by holding on for dear life to pay much attention to the habitations and whatnot flying by him on the long descent into the valley.

They declared Hasgrud the winner and slowed to a walk for the final ascent from the valley floor. Yuuri still couldn't make out much of the habitations, although some of the large humps of snow sported chimney smoke. A very strange field turned out to be a park full of snow sculptures. Frozen for over nine months of the year, these rivaled or exceeded the best he'd seen on TV from the great competitions in Hokkaido. A long straight ridge turned out to be Trond Hall itself, its outcroppings the snow-covered greenhouses and other utility buildings. Trond Hall, like all troll halls, was nocturnal, and the three-foot snowfall had stopped after dawn. So the snow still lay relatively pristine around it, though there was a broad packed avenue circling it, looking a little like a moat.

Aldrich bid the party dismount, and sent the sleigh rental drivers to deliver the luggage to the loading dock. Murata still reeked of garlic though his fellow passengers forcibly divested him of his garlic strings every morning at dawn. He went with them to change clothes before greeting anyone officially. Yozak chose to go along as a guide, since he'd of course spied on Trond Hall on many occasions – spying on Trondheim was a perennial precaution for Shin Makoku.

"This is the main entrance?" asked Brendan, looking dubiously down a hole leading into the long narrow building. It looked more like a very large cellar door.

"Tack room," said Aldrich, shading his eyes to see better, attention on the slopes above them. "Everybody's asleep. I'm not sure I want to use the main entrance."

Yuuri followed his gaze to spy a bird soaring downward from the mountain, with a bright blue head, cream chest, brown and scarlet tail feathers. Big scarlet feet. No wings. Not a bird, a skier! It landed in a spume of snow, and zigzagged at speed right for them, skidding to a stop right between Aldrich and Manfred, and Yuuri and Wolfram, showering them all in a diamond-glittering curtain, with a whoop!

Alana von Trondheim herself, Aldrich's mother, stood before them. The blue head was of course her royal blue hair, french-braided down the back. She wore mirrored black sunglasses, shearling earmuffs, a cream sweater, and brown leather mitts and pants and boots, with a calf length leather cape bustle attached to her waist at the back, all tipped in scarlet. These were the von Trondheim royal family's brown-and-scarlet colors, in their native form – brown leather mountain gear, edged with scarlet for visibility. Her skis were a matching scarlet. Downright tiny for a half-troll due to her elf blood, she stood only slightly above 6 foot 6 – half a foot taller than her only child, Aldrich.

\ 6 feet 6 inches is 200 cm Alana, 183 cm Aldrich – are these unit conversions helpful? \

Exhiliarated from her ski jump, she grinned the impossibly wide troll-jaw smile, pearly white fangs gleaming in the sun. "Welcome to Trondheim!" she boomed, greeting the Maou first. "Yuuri, Wolfram. Oh, your little hats are so adorable. Yuuri, you're a little bear, right? And Wolfram… are you a bunny or a sweet little grey pig?"

-oOo-

_Sorry this chapter turned into such a travelogue – we definitely get to the ghosts next chapter. I hadn't planned on the long digression on how the new Racial Accords were working out in practice, but Yuuri kinda took over, you know?And most of this actually does advance the plot…_

_Please review? Even though this story is completed, I still really like reviews… _


	2. Welcome to Trond Hall

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 2 – Welcome to Trond Hall**

After greetings all around, Alana led Yuuri and Aldrich's party to the nearest of several multi-storey glass pyramids tacked onto the south wall of Trond Hall. She stripped her boots and outerwear and demonstrated how to stow these to dry, in the vestibule just inside the outer doors. Then she climbed the stairs to the inner vestibule door, set a full storey above the outside door. Only when everyone was ready to enter, did she open the inner doors to the giant greenhouse.

This was painfully bright, steamy, and tropically overheated in the middle. The lower storey perimeter of the pyramid grew temperate vegetables. The raised floor and ceiling in the center were dedicated to large fruit trees and riotous food-bearing undergrowth, home to bees and butterflies and birds, and a fair number of tame animals.

Aldrich and Brendan had to pick up their sons, amidst squeals of protest, with solemn promises to do the grand tour of the greenhouses later. Yuuri feared the boys would mutiny soon, having already been put off with promises on the snow sculpture playground and sledding slopes and luges outside, and now the jungle petting zoo. But at least all four youngsters had taken a turn driving the sleighs, which kept their wiggle urge below the explosive limit, for now.

At the door into the main Hall, all the guests except Aldrich and Brendan picked up pairs of transparent-lens nightglasses from the common bowls. The nightglasses helped the non-nocturnal to see in the dim interior of the castle-city. To Yuuri's surprise, these were nothing like infrared night goggles from Earth, showing a monochrome heat map. Instead they magnified light intensity, much like brightening the dark area of an otherwise overexposed photograph – you could find substantial detail hidden in the black. The scattered red-coal lighting braziers glared uncomfortably white through the glasses, while everything else appeared bright and colorful.

It was still a few hours before standard breakfast at 6 pm. Alana herself had taken to odd hours to keep her husband company while Friedrich was living here. They'd learned when Aldrich was little that wood nymph mixtures got ill if they didn't get enough sunshine. Friedrich himself was still up on the ski slopes, by no means capable of the ski jump express route Alana had taken. But Alana assured Dietrich that his adored grandfather would reunite with him as soon as possible.

Alana gave Aldrich her keys and asked him to show everyone to their rooms and introduce them to the baths before breakfast. She'd arrange the luggage and a wake-up call. Alana personally took charge of Greta, though, to introduce her to the women's baths. Greta looked more eager than frightened at the prospect.

Conrad wandered off with Hasgrud, to look for the stray Yozak and Murata. The sleep-walking Wolfram asked to be excused from the bath in favor of sleeping off the drugs. Aldrich quickly acquired an antidote, which worked fast – Wolfram and Efram were fully alive again in minutes.

The baths were below the bedrooms. Apparently there were a number of these low vaulted chambers in Trond Hall. This one held two tanks, the smaller about 12x15 feet, the larger perhaps 15x30, both half-full of tepid water when they arrived. They were about six feet deep in the center, with broad but steep stair steps around each side, to accommodate bathers of varying heights. The ceiling and walls of the chamber were dark, the floor tiled in slate, the inside of the tanks gorgeous mosaic, with lights glowing from their depths as well as the walls.

Aldrich told the goblin attendent what he wanted – 'medium warm' in the big tank, and 'medium cool' in the small one. He warned the others never, _ever,_ to manipulate the equipment. It was more dangerous than it looked, and affected the factory operations below.

"Factory?" asked Yuuri.

"Trond Hall is the premiere glassworks of Shin Makoku. The waste heat from below heats the baths and the whole hall."

_The greenhouse pyramids,_ thought Yuuri. _Highly functional, and showcases for their wares. Nice!_

The goblin filled the baths with amazing speed, opening huge sluice gates of superheated water and snowmelt. Apparently the tanks got a little too hot, so he dumped a bonus load of snow into each and stirred with a giant paddle, before asking Aldrich to check them. Aldrich tested both tanks cautiously, pronounced them good, and requested 'elf islands', as well. 'Medium warm' was a nice Japanese bath by Yuuri's standards, downright hot by Wolfram and Brendan's. 'Medium-cool' was a balmy 90 degrees – too warm for vigorous exercise, yet cooler than a normal bath. The elf islands were large floating frondy things that provided snatches of semi-privacy for the newlyweds, and lots of play fun for Brendan and the boys.

Aldrich's father Friedrich found them there, and after a quick dip, took away Brendan and the boys, leaving only the two newlywed couples and the goblin in the bath vault. Aldrich asked the goblin to mark the room as a private party, and he and Manfred claimed the cooler bath to themselves, leaving Yuuri and Wolfram alone in the bigger tank.

"This place is fantastic," Yuuri said softly to Wolfram. "We could spend the whole vacation here – uh, honeymoon – and never be bored. The baths, all the play areas… The bedroom is nice, too. Do they have a big tourist industry, for all the ski slopes? Ah, for people who don't get motion sickness, at least."

Wolfram looked at him funny. "Nobody comes to Trondheim unless they have business here, Yuuri."

"Well, I think Erick should try opening it up for tourism. Playing together would do wonders for cross-racial acceptance."

Wolfram said, "Not with the ghosts… Oh, Yuuri, let's not talk work today!" He pulled an elf island over for extra privacy – though Aldrich and Manfred were uninterested in them, and hidden in a ring of the things – and kissed him deeply. "Mm, honeymoon starts now?"

Yuuri smiled and stroked him with both hands, from the bangs on his forehead, down his ears and neck, traced out his shoulders, then down the sides of Wolfram's torso, stopping at his hips, to press him closer. "Yeah, honeymoon starts right now…"

Manfred and Aldrich left first. Yuuri and Wolfram never noticed.

-oOo-

A quiet demon showed them to the von Trondheim royal dining room on the top floor. He explained local protocol – only Yuuri could sit when Alana did, the rest had to wait on Lord Erick's invitation. No one else spoke during the rituals, until the elves came in.

Lord Erick joined them soon after, dressed to start his work day. This was the first time Yuuri had seen him without dark sunglasses. Since the over -7-foot youth was already _bigger_ than his father and uncle, and couldn't manage at all with contact lenses, Yuuri had assumed that his eyes were frighteningly troll. But actually, his eyes were a beautiful long-lashed pure sky blue, with a strong elfin lilt to them. His hair was a midnight blue, his features strong and regular to rare masculine gorgeousness, writ very large.

His customary good humor from even a few months ago, however, looked frayed. Erick was the youngest of the Eleven Aristocrats, even younger and newer than Sylvain von Donaghie. And unlike the strong support and congratulations Sylvain had received from everyone, Erick had taken the Lordship under a pall, not sure whether he'd be confirmed or exiled, or even executed as a traitor. Yuuri's youngest vassal was beset with problems.

"Sire, Wolfram, so good to see you again!" he greeted them.

"Good to see _you_, Erick," Yuuri said, firmly shaking his hand, pressing an intent soft smile on the young man. "I know this is a tough job you've got here. But your domain is wonderful! I should have visited long ago!" Erick looked away at that. "How are you doing, Erick?"

"Oh… busy," Erick sighed.

Brendan offered, "For most of us, Erick, the first five years as domain Lord are the worst. Ignore the charmed ones." He gestured dismissively at Conrad, who smiled. "Uncle Friedrich, tell him – aren't the first five years the hardest?" Friedrich had ruled Bielenfeld for centuries before his son Aldrich took over.

"I refuse to remember my first five years as Lord Bielenfeld," Friedrich confirmed, shuddering. "Horrific flashbacks – it's your fault, Brendan, if I have nightmares tonight."

That got a chuckle all around. Brendan continued, "This place is awesome, Erick. Any good hunting –"

He was interrupted by a demon urgently tugging on Erick and whispering to him. "_Spies?_" Erick repeated out loud, staring at Yuuri. They all turned to the door as Yozak and Murata were led in, hands bound. "Are these yours? Sire." His voice was dead as rock.

"Aha! Yes, they – ah, please allow me to introduce Murata Ken, the Great Sage, and Yozak, the, yes. Yozak is ordinarily a spy, but aha! He's here on _vacation_. With Conrad." Yuuri and Conrad both stared dolefully at Murata and Yozak.

It took them a moment to recall that the career spy was actually less problematic. In most parts of Shin Makoku, the Great Sage would be welcomed with veneration. Trondheim was a distinct exception. Erick's stone face turned to active loathing.

"They're not here as spies," said Conrad. "Or at least, I didn't think they were."

In response to Lord Erick's look of inquiry, the demon reported, "They were found in the locked archives. They broke in without permission. Apparently they infiltrated Trond Hall via the loading dock."

"Ah," Yuuri said, "they were just going with our luggage to…" _Change clothes,_ he'd intended to say. But in fact, the two bound miscreants were still wearing their travel clothes, garlic fumes and all. Yuuri's voice hardened. "Murata, explain yourself."

"Please untie the spies," said Alana, breezing into the room, apparently notified outside. "Lord Erick, if they belong to Yuuri Maou, we'll just give them back to him, anyway. Let's eat first, interrogate later."

Erick stiffly held Alana's chair for her to be seated, then stood at attention behind his own chair next to hers. Servants led the others to do the same, except for Yuuri and Greta, whom they seated.

"_Shamshesh alte'in…_" Alana began, apparently some kind of ritual benediction in Trondish. Erick completed the incantation.

Then a trapdoor was opened in the roof of the dining room, and a howling nightmare flew in. Light wolves, like those who threatened the human-Mazoku bridge Yuuri helped build once, swirled around them in a vortex, twenty, fifty, teeth bared, screaming!

Wolfram and Conrad leapt to protect Yuuri with their bodies, Efram urgently cast a majustu defense spell on Yuuri and those nearest him. The ghosts swirled around the room screaming like banshees, a sound to freeze blood and set teeth aching. Erick and Alana, and all those used to this, stared straight ahead, with faces cold as ice. After about a minute of this, the ghosts swirled out again with a shriek.

The trapdoor closed, and Erick sat. "Please send in the elves," he calmly instructed a servant by the door. He gestured everyone else to sit. Wolfram and Conrad remained standing, staring at Erick open-mouthed. The elves entered, each carrying some oddment for the table – a spork, a salt shaker, several bringing liquor jugs to breakfast.

A pretty olive-haired elf, in a darker olive leather catsuit decorated with many buckles, veered from the direct path to the table. She stepped one foot over the black-haired Murata to straddle him, and stared down at him on the floor. The others hadn't noticed until then that Murata was lying unconscious there.

"So, Erick, who's the ghosts' new buddy?" she asked, grinning.

"The _Great Sage,_" spat Erick.

The elf finished stepping over the body with a look of loathing contempt. "Serves him right. Bet _that'll_ be a long chat."

Several of Yuuri's party made a move to rush to Murata. "Don't touch him!" barked Erick. Elves and demons and trolls drew steel and blocked the Shin Makoku group's way.

Erick explained, "It is not _safe_ to touch him, until the ghosts bring his soul back. Please be seated, and leave him be." He added in an undertone, "I'd just as soon have him decorate the floor anyway."

In the midst of winter Trondheim, a mile above the rest of Shin Makoku, surrounded by armed Tronds and nearly impassable mountains, there was no choice, after all. Conrad, Wolfram, and Yuuri slowly sank to their seats.

Friedrich added softly, "It can't be helped, Yuuri."

-oOo-

_I'll probably drop this story unless people start expressing interest… I can daydream without taking the time to write it down…_

_Please review?_


	3. Not Daikenja!

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 3 – _Not_ Daikenja!**

"Recognize this place?" said Franklin von Trondheim, conversationally. "It wasn't called Gratz yet, back then." They stood on a mountain pasture, verdant and sprinkled with summer wildflowers, the gentler mountains of what would become the Gratz-Wincott border to the north, the jagged higher peaks of the land of the mountain trolls to the south. A faun shepherd played pipes to his woolly charges and some faun and centaur children, giggling and laughing nearby.

_Tiallie,_ Murata thought, with the whispery pang of a grief long ago dried up and blown away, like a quiet sigh in the gentle summer mountain breeze. It had been four millenia. His mind supplied the name instantly, of this beloved shepherd friend of his youth as Daikenja, here in these mountains. He hadn't thought of Tiallie in all this time, to his shame.

Murata stared at Erick Lord Trondheim's father, dead 10 months ago, more or less by his own choice. Franklin hadn't survived _'breeding up-troll'_ – mating with a woman of much greater troll blood, to father an up-troll child. He'd last seen him a couple years ago, at a regular meeting of the Eleven Aristocrats, not long before Murata had returned to Earth for a long spell to complete his university degree. Yuuri had tried to summon him back for the Bielenfeld Conference, hammering out the new Racial Accords. Murata had begged off with vague excuses.

From force of habit, Murata pushed at glasses not present on the bridge of his soul-form nose. "Yes. Of course I recognize it," he said softly. "But I'm not Daikenja anymore. This was long ago. I am Murata Ken, a human student in another world, now."

"How _convenient,_" spat Franklin.

The image of the bright summer rangeland broke up and wisped away. Instead they stood on the steep roof of long, tall, present-day Trond Hall, imprisoned in its cage of ice-bound jagged peaks. A vast army of the dead stood on the valley slopes beneath, staring up at him, silent and sterile as the winter stars and moonlight glinting off the snow. A few of the living passed through them, like transparent shadows, on about their business, mostly unaware of the ghosts, who to Murata's soul eyes showed solid and clear.

They silently demanded an answer.

Murata swallowed. Though they stood far below, he could see their eyes, accusing, angry, fearful, lonely, hopeless, going mad – the eyes of the damned. The eyes of the people _he_ had damned. _Shinou and I… No, I told him how to do it…_

"A true demon king _you_ are," Franklin voiced his thoughts. "Behold the army of your _damned_. Your friends and enemies, fellow Mazoku locked in soul form, chained to this world, condemned to wander without hope of rebirth, for there aren't suitable living bodies for them to reincarnate _into_. Four thousand years you worked to free one demon – _ONE DEMON!_ – while all of us go slowly mad with waiting!"

"We had to save the world," Murata desperately excused himself. "It wasn't just to save Shinou himself. The whole world was at stake. There would have been none for them to reincarnate into, if the world had perished, either. Besides, you're a demon, too!"

"Am I," said Franklin. His form morphed into another familiar form – ten feet tall, five feet wide at the shoulders, King Vladimir of the mountain trolls, before he'd been ensorcelled by the Enemy, the wise troll king of Daikenja's youth, his own ruler in fact. "My apologies – Queen Natasha cannot join us today. My wife's soul walks among the living. She keeps faith with the future, while I keep faith with the past." The soul morphed back into the guise of its more recent incarnation, Franklin von Trondheim. "Quarter blood troll or higher, a troll soul can reincarnate into. Any less than that, we cannot."

"We did what we had to do, to save the world!" insisted Murata. "Back then, and seven years ago!" But his own heart quailed within him, belying his words.

"And we do what we have to do, to be freed to live again," replied Franklin.

"What do you want from me? I told you. I am not Daikenja anymore!"

"No. You think you are free as a demon, to be reborn into either world, live on and on, playing in the sun," said Franklin. "Well, not anymore. You're our hostage now."

"_What!_"

"Aldrich had great faith in your Yuuri Maou," said Franklin. "You'd better hope he was right. Because until we are freed to be reborn again, _you_ stay with _us_."

He raised his arms to the multitude, and they began speaking. Not in a roar, but as though each one spoke directly, quietly, pleading, inside Murata's head and heart. _"I want to live again, see the sky again, love again, feel the breeze again, taste again, have children again,"_ they murmured in anguish. Thousands, tens of thousands, troll souls, wood nymphs, centaurs, fauns – a cacophony of heartbroken pleading. The long-dead voices of those he'd actually known, like Tiallie, spoke the loudest, the most clearly, tore at his soul the most mercilessly.

"_Stop!_" cried Murata, on his knees on the snow of the roof top, hands to his ears. "I can't take it! I'll do whatever you ask! Please, let me go back!"

"Not yet," said Franklin, though he lowered his arms, and the multitude's voices died back in a sussurus of a snowswept winter sigh.

"Shibuya Yuuri Maou needs my help," said Murata in defeat. "I have to go back to the living, I can't solve it from here."

Franklin looked at him without sympathy. "We'll see."

-oOo-

Aldrich didn't meet Yuuri's eye across the breakfast table, instead looking at the pretty olive-haired elf, his face in its most inscrutably bland lopsided variant of the von Bielenfeld green-eyed evil demon smile.

The elf crossed to Yozak and threw her arms and jug around him in a hug. "Yozak, you old reprobate! Just can't get enough of shoveling Trond Hall coal, can ya? I keep telling you, buddy, just come to me and we'll _trade_ intel. Much more _efficient_ than getting busted for spying and sentenced to hard labor in the glassworks."

Yozak laughed ruefully – indeed he'd served many a week down in the basement factories of Trond Hall over the years. "Guya, good to see ya! Ah, well, they told me you weren't here…"

"Aha! I just got in less than an hour ago."

"Guya'k'vriel, please be seated," said Alana. "I trust you are _not_ going to open that jug for breakfast." This was not a question. Guya pouted a smiling moué and clunked the jug down by Erick, then wandered down-table to take her own seat.

"Wish I could say it was good to see you, Guy," said Erick, his lit-up eyes giving his words the lie. He _was_ glad to see her, and gazed at her longingly. "You weren't supposed to be back yet."

"Ted sent me back for an engineering team," she agreed. "The bridge is blown over the Royal Gorge. We chatted by mirrors across the ravine."

"_Shit,_" said Erick. "But his team's alright?"

Guya wagged her head so-so, reaching for cream for her coffee, forbidden her choice of beverage. "No resupply for two days. He'd just sent a party back to inquire. So… probably two bridges down at least. The shamans you sent are stuck on this side, and settling in for the long haul."

"You need troops, not shamans," opined Alana. "Well… both."

"Maybe," replied Erick, glaring at her. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Alana shrugged. "I was up. The team won't be ready for another hour yet – plenty of time for you to make fine adjustments after breakfast."

Conrad Lord Weller and Brendan Lord Gratz studied their breakfasts. Aldrich Lord Bielenfeld and his father were sharing one of their seemingly telepathic consults. For a new domain Lord, young and inexperienced and with a sleighload of problems, having Alana undermine Erick's authority was bad news.

Erick turned to Hasgrud. "And how was the trip from the Escarpment? Any better?"

"All four rope-ladders running on the first elevator," reported Hasgrud. "Looked good all the way. They fixed that fast."

"I thought security was unusually tight," said Aldrich, finally joining in. "Problems on the Escarpment too?"

"Yeah," breathed Erick. "The Walde elevator was down to two rope ladders last week. The third gondola had to shut down to traffic, down to one rope. I'm sure you rode in on one real rope and three jury-rigs for that stretch. And now the Kriegsbad Pass is closed, in at least two places. Hell, I don't even know how we're going to resupply Ted. They may be stuck there all winter."

"There are halls between Royal Gorge and Box Canyon," differed Alana. "Ted's people will be alright. However long it takes." Most Trondheim mountain communities were called halls – troll halls or otherwise. She meant that at least they weren't stranded alone at the mercy of mountain winter between the broken bridges.

Erick answered angrily, "Yeah, and the commander of my Kriegsbad peacekeeping forces is wintering in the mountains. Ted was only supposed to be gone checking the Pass for a few weeks." He blew out a long breath and cooled off. "Damn."

Brendan hesitantly and gently added, "And Gratz Pass? Any trouble there?"

Erick looked at him, face sagging. "I've got no one there," he admitted. "We're spread too thin to patrol a closed pass."

Brendan explained, ostensibly to Yuuri, "Gratz Pass is only open a few months of the year, but it's the only one suitable for the really heavy or bulky loads. The cargo storehouses fill up all winter, on both sides, to cross when it opens. Gratz Pass has a much lower grade than the Kriegsbad Pass, and comes out closest to the Donza. Well, the Escarpment is probably just as close, but you can't ship ore and glass by dangling it from a rope. Even grain shipments – the cost of going from Bielenfeld all the way around by Kriegsbad Pass is astronomical for food. If spring comes, and the Gratz Pass isn't ready to roll, Trondheim's in a world of pain economically."

"Who's blowing the passes?" asked Conrad softly. "Terrorists?"

"We don't know," said Erick. "I've asked Lord Krist for help, but he says I have no proof it's his people's fault. I knew you guys would be up here soon, so I… postponed asking Walde and Gratz until I saw you. Aldrich… do I need to hand in my autonomist club membership button if I cry uncle to the feds? Because this is…" He shook his head in dismay.

"Not at all," said Aldrich. "It's a multi-domain problem – or at least one that takes a multi-domain solution. Sounds like a federal problem to me. Especially if von Krist isn't volunteering to help, like he _should_ be."

Yuuri's lips were pursed, listening attentively and not offering an opinion as yet. Half his mind was on Murata, on the floor.

"Actually," Friedrich offered, calmly nursing his coffee, "you'd be doing General von Dienst a favor, wouldn't you? Always a problem for the military, how to keep its troops fresh and well-trained and usefully occupied in peacetime. I'm sure he'd be happy to send someone to sub in for Ted at Kriegsbad, and secure Gratz Pass as well. He does so love these little logistics challenges. I bet von Dienst would redundantly resupply each Pass and the Escarpment through each of the others, from both directions, and keep those soldiers marching, marching, marching." Friedrich smiled at Erick.

Aldrich frowned at Friedrich. _That's obvious, to us. Why hasn't Erick been getting advice from you all along? _By the terms of Friedrich and Alana's marriage-treaty, Trondheim was practically a bound vassal to Bielenfeld – owing obedience, yes, but with full claim to Bielenfeld's sponsorship in return. But Erick had Aldrich's best, most experienced Lord von Bielenfeld living right here with him. _Why isn't Erick relying on you, Chichi?_

No, these two weren't telepathic. They were simply brilliant and sensitive men, devoted to each other, who'd lived and worked together for nearly a quarter millenium, and thought a lot alike. Friedrich knew full well what his son-and-liege-lord's look meant. As Aldrich in turn knew that his father's level green-eyed demon regard in return, meant _that_ conversation would play to a much smaller audience.

Brendan nodded reassuringly at Erick, continuing his uncle Friedrich's advice. "We supply the native mountaineering expertise, Trondheim and Gratz. Conrad's current heir is Gegen Huber Bruschella, holding the Walde base of the Escarpment – he and Gwendal can help you there. You're welcome to base the Gratz operations out of the Stovemuessen's ranch. Is Vedanya down there now, by the way?" Vedanya was Erick's younger sister, betrothed to Brendan's brother-in-law Hjalmar Stovemuessen, at the same marriage ball a year ago that had launched Bielenfelder Squire Sylvain von Tarkenburg to become the new Sylvain Lord Donaghie.

"Yeah," said Erick, teeth clenched. "Vedanya's on the ten year prove-yourself betrothal plan. Turns out the Stovemuessens are fine with troll blood and von Trondheims, but have grave doubts about Vedanya's _elf_ blood. Such a joy, carrying the bloodlines of all of our loyal subjects – we von Trondheims embody something for _every_ racist to hate," Erick said bitterly. "I wish they'd just elope." Brendan, who'd helped Erick broker the betrothal, looked dismayed.

"Elope or long betrothal, they'll still have to pay the piper in the long run," said Aldrich. "If Vedanya needs to prove herself, then, better that she get busy at it, rather than whine that it's unfair. She and Hjalmar should head up Gratz Pass, with or without von Dienst's forces. Shack up away from the disapproving family, and prove just what a troll-elf-demon-goblin woman is made of, hm?" He shot a dark smile at his troll-elf-demon mother Alana. They didn't normally mention the goblin part, but it was rare indeed to find a demon in Trondheim who wasn't part goblin. There was just no way of knowing how much goblin, since it didn't show and no one admitted it.

"Hm," agreed Erick, with a matching smile.

Yuuri had long since decided that one of his most effective kingly gambits, was to make like furniture and listen intently to his advisors and vassals argue with each other. Then prod them into talking again if they skimped on any areas he wanted to hear more about. "Shamans," Yuuri prodded. "First, could one be summoned to help Murata? And secondly, why did you send shamans, to Ted?"

"Well, a blanket, perhaps," said Erick grudgingly, nodding to a demon retainer to go provide Murata some bedding. "I sent shamans to the Escarpment as well. So, a week now without accidents, or sabotage, Hasgrud?" Apparently Hasgrud had not just been sent to meet them, but to ensure that the Escarpment passage was safe and report back.

"Ten days, yes," replied Hasgrud. "No further damage since you put the shamans in place. I spoke with them, and security, at each station on the Escarpment. They can't say for sure that the ghosts were responsible for the breakdowns. But they were each quite emphatic that they should stay. They say the ghosts have been extraordinarily vicious this winter. One old guy said he hasn't seen the like, since the winter before the Great War."

In Shin Makoku, that conflict was referred to as the Great Troll and Goblin War, nearly a quarter millenium ago. Naturally, the trolls and goblins didn't call it that. Friedrich and Alana's marriage, and Trondheim becoming the tenth domain of Shin Makoku, under Bielenfeld's tutoring, had been part of the terms of the truce. And it was _only_ a truce. Neither side had surrendered or won. And the then-Maou's program to replace conflict with friendship, remained… incomplete.

Erick nodded thoughtfully, then remembered to finish answering Yuuri. "Sire… it's not entirely clear to me whether these acts of sabotage are from the living, or the dead."

"Why would our ancestors sabotage us!" countered Alana.

Erick held a hand placatingly. "I've doubled physical security as well, Aunt Alana, and won't rest from our search for terrorists. But I believe need to cover both bases. As terrorists go, I must say, these really suck at it. Terror, they're managing, I'll grant them that. But demands? Reasons? Who they are? Why they're doing this? There have been leads, no communication!"

"Unless Franklin's doing that now," suggested Aldrich quietly, looking at Murata on the floor.

"Then it _was_ my father," said Erick. "I wasn't sure. I thought I might have seen… King Vladimir."

"It was Franklin," Aldrich said definitely.

Alana looked alarmed. "King Vlad hasn't been seen since the Great War, either! I should summon Troll Mother if King Vlad walks the land again!"

"No, I forbid it," said Erick.

"You dare!" hissed Alana.

"It's my call, Lady Alana," Erick said quietly, polite but firm. "It's too soon to tell – you can't prove a negative – but the shamans seem to be helping on the Escarpment. I want to pursue getting help via Shin Makoku, and my liege lord Yuuri Maou is here. _Especially_ if Father is talking to the Great Sage, and King Vladimir is active again. I don't believe these are all… unrelated."

Instead of arguing further, Alana backed down and grew thoughtful, nodding slightly.

"Who is this King Vladimir?" demanded Yuuri.

"The ghost of Troll Mother's father," replied Erick thoughtfully. _And… mine? Together… or one and the same? Father was two hundred thirty-five, born after the Great War, about the same time as Aldrich, the pair of them – literally – conceived and then raised together as part of the Maou's peace plan…_

"And the shaman to attend to _my friend_ Murata?" Yuuri insisted.

"Hm? Oh," said Erick. "Alana and Aldrich and I are the leading shamans of Trond Hall – every member of the von Trondheim family is a shaman. That's why we summon the ghosts to dine with us at every meal."

"And in turn, why the elves are _late_ to every meal," said Guya'k'vriel sourly. "Truly _obnoxious_ habit of the von Trondheims, that."

Alana looked daggers at Guya, but Erick laughed softly. "It is that," he agreed, meeting Guya's eye with a smile.

Yuuri couldn't help but agree as well. To start every meal with that maelstrom of horror, a frozen scream of pain… "And Murata?" he demanded, eyebrow twitching.

"He'll return when they're done with him," replied Aldrich. "I hope."

Conrad gently suggested, "Yuuri, if we're done eating breakfast, perhaps we could speak to Yozak and find out exactly what they were doing with their… missing afternoon. If… you'd excuse us, Erick?"

Erick glowered at him. "I'd be very interested to hear what you find out," he said pointedly. "Please do let me know. If it might, oh, for instance, affect the security and well-being of the entire domain of Trondheim. Could you do that. Please. Lord Weller."

Conrad grinned in wry appreciation. "Indeed. Lord Trondheim. I will certainly tell you everything that might… touch on your concerns. Perhaps Guyia'kk'vurielle," he stumbled over the name, unable to mimic the glottal stops in the middle, "would care to supervise?"

"No," said Erick. "No, my apologies for getting testy, Conrad. I leave it unto your honor. I need to debrief _Guya_," he stressed the nickname as a hint to stop trying to pronounce the full name, "before I can release the bridge repair crews to Uncle Ted at Royal Gorge. In fact, if you'll all excuse me, I need to see to that now. Sire, Aldrich, Brendan, friends, please be welcome here at Trond Hall. I hope I'll be able to visit more with you socially before you leave."

Hasgrud half-rose to accompany them as well for debriefing – he'd been scouting the Escarpment while Guya went to Royal Gorge, after all – but was waved back for now. Erick and Guya departed alone.

"Well," said Manfred, rising, with a hand on his newlywed husband's shoulder, "I think it's time to hit the sledding slopes, hm, boys? Let Ricky the Social Troll catch up with family, while we have some fun."

Aldrich scowled at Manfred and caught Dietrich in a hug, confiding, "But_ I_ want to go sledding, _too._"

"You're not invited, dear," said Manfred. "You'll talk. And_ talk…_"

"And talk and talk and_ talk,_" teased Dietrich.

"And _'Just a minute!'_ And _'I'll be right with you!'_" teased Trenton.

Brendan laughed, "And we'll never actually launch a _sled…_"

Wolfram rose, too, smiling. "I'd like to join you, if I might. You, Greta?"

"Sure! Efram, you too?" She and Efram both joined the sledding party eagerly.

"If you should _happen_ to be there," Manfred said to Aldrich with a smile, "right at the _top_ of the sledding trail? Actually_ in the sled_? _Then_ you can go down the hill with us, love. I'll believe it when I see it." He kissed Aldrich's forehead and they departed.

Breakfast broke up in general, with Yuuri and Conrad and a self-appointed Hasgrud heading off to talk with Yozak, and the others going off to their workdays, leaving Aldrich at last to visit with his parents. Until the room was empty, save for Murata lying blotto on the floor, they chatted cozily about Dietrich, and how Efram and Manfred were settling in domestically at Castle Bielenfeld, and Friedrich's troll mating safety research here in Trondheim.

As the door closed on the last of the servants, Aldrich asked, "So. What's up with Erick?"

-oOo-

"Let me _go_, Guya," Erick laughed, trying to detach the beautiful elf clinging to his neck, straddling his lap in his office. "I have to talk to the crew bound for Royal Gorge before they can _leave._"

Guya teasingly unbuckled yet another buckle from her leather catsuit. She'd worked her way down diagonally from the first buckle at her neck, to the fourth buckle over her left nipple over the course of their _'debriefing'_. "But you'll be back soon. Won't you," she said with a smile.

Erick folded back the leather freed by that fourth buckle and lowered his head for a long suck and a quick bite. "Very soon," he agreed, then lifted the petite elf off his lap, and sighed. "But I need to write to Chanceller Lord Walde and General von Dienst as well. And, you know, work," he said sadly. Then breathed, "But oh, by the ancestors, Guya – it's good to have you back!"

She smiled and took a very suggestive pose on his desk, toes in their cute indoor pointed boots, spread wide and curled down over the desk edge, hands grasping the edge just inside them, elbows pushing out wide-spread knees. "Well, it's good to be back," she said with a grin. "Work could wait a little more, after the crew… Couldn't it?"

"I'll be back in just a few," he promised, stealing a last kiss on his way out the door.

Guya chuckled, and extended one of her pretty pointed toes down to a desk drawer and pushed it open. She hooked the jug out from the drawer with a pointy toe and drew it up, swivelling and dangling it down to the desktop in front of her. Acrobatics accomplished, she unscrewed the top and chugged the elf liquor. She smiled with relief as the liquid burned its way down her throat. She hummed a little as she looked around the room, plotting how to welcome her lover back from his errand.

-oOo-

_Yay! A few reviews, so one more chapter… Please keep reviewing? Just to tell me whether you care if I keep writing this one?_

_Please review?_


	4. Good Information

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

AN: Oops. For those who read Chap 2 before Chap 4 was posted, please note that the ghosts of Trondheim look like light wolves.

**Chapter 4 – Good Information**

"But -!" pleaded Murata, "I can't fix this as a ghost! I have to go back!"

"Agreed," said Franklin. "You have to go back _in time_, to when this started. Let Yuuri and Natasha handle the present and future. It's called teamwork."

"Natasha is – who?"

"Not your concern. _He_ is, at the moment."

_He_ being Shinou. The roof of Trond Hall, the shades of the tens of thousands on Murata's conscience, had vanished. They were back in the world of four millenia ago, in a chamber of Prince Rufas von Bielenfeld's castle by the great Donza River, to be precise. This modest keep was swallowed by today's palatial Castle Bielenfeld, surrounded by the thriving city of Castletown, though this ancient stone keep still stood at the center of it.

Shinou laughed, and blew a pile of parchment up to dance gaily in the breeze through the unglazed windows, in a manic mood as he so often was – infectiously fey. "Oh, Daikenja, my beautiful black," he said, draping his arm over the back of a chunky wooden chair, a booted foot thrown casually onto the stolid table. "It's called teamwork, love. _You_ do the scholarship, _I_ supply the majutsu power."

Rufas and Christel Wincott laughed along with him, eyes dancing merrily. "You should know better by now, Daikenja. Let Christel and I read it, then," said Rufas, grabbing a page at random. "Potions – this one's yours, Christel. Got any majutsu pages?"

"Erhard is better at this stuff," confessed Christel, eyeing the sheet. "Oh, wait, Rufas, this combines potions and majutsu theory." He shook his head in dismay, looking at Rufas, who smiled and shook his head as well.

"It's _complicated_," huffed Daikenja, snatching the page back.

"He was such a stiff old fussbudget," complained Murata in chagrine. The tableau froze.

"Mm, and you're Mr. Charisma now, right? All silent and mysterious," said Franklin. He walked over and peeked over Christel's frozen shoulder at the parchment page. "I wonder if your scholarship's gotten any better over the years. So what are we looking for here, Murata?"

"What? You brought us here!"

"I said we needed to go back in time to when this started. Your mind supplied the match for _'when this started'_. So what happened here?"

Murata folded his arms, hand over his mouth, thinking. He _had_ flashed on this memory. _When… what started?_ "Scholarship… Shinou had no patience for scholarship. He was rash, manic, thought with his values instead of his head. And these two were worse, Rufas all heart and passion, Christel all justice and kindness. Erhard Wincott was the only one of them who spent any time thinking. Aside from me. Daikenja, I mean."

Franklin shrugged. "I don't know these people, Murata. Well, you and Shinou I recognize from the portraits at Blood Pledge Castle."

"It doesn't matter," said Murata. "This day… Erhard Wincott and I believed that Soushu – the Enemy – had some third force he was using, neither majutsu or houjutsu. The puppets… Erhard was very concerned that all the people we fought were puppets. He was trying to find a potion approach that would bring the souls back into those bodies. To save them, instead of fight them. I believed with Shinou and the others, that instead we had to vanquish Soushu, that the souls were already gone beyond recall. But that Soushu wasn't simply making puppets for soldiers, that his power was some kind of soul-jutsu. I wanted to find a spell that would rob him of this… soul-jutsu."

"And did you?"

"No. This day, this meeting… I changed the direction of my research. We heard that the trolls had lost to Soushu, that they now swelled his army of puppets. Those Mazoku puppets still wielded all their majutsu. And troll majutsu… is a force to be reckoned with. But Rufas' family had a tradition of empirical majutsu research. There was an experiment in the family archives, one that had gone horribly wrong when they tried to repeat it in the presence of a troll visitor. Rufas' father the king agreed to let me study the secret archives. The spell we devised from that, laid down the armies, so that Shinou could win to the center of that last battle and capture Soushu, so that we could divide and seal his power."

"Do you remember the spell?" asked Franklin.

"Yes… but I couldn't wield it. Yuuri's brother-in-law Efram used a variant of it by mistake just this past spring. Yuuri knows about it from that, though he probably hasn't asked exactly how it was done."

"Hm. Well, you were right about the third force and the puppets," said Franklin. "Maybe it would help if you look at some of our memories next – what it was like, to become a puppet."

"Maybe it would help if you set me free!"

"You still deny moral responsibility?" replied Franklin.

"Yes! I did what I had to do!" insisted Murata, outraged.

"Then, next stop, the day I became a puppet," said Franklin.

-oOo-

Hasgrud led them to the sealed archives of Trond Hall, to question Yozak on what he and Murata had been doing there. These weren't far from the von Trondheim dining room, as Trond Hall went – about a city block's length toward the center of the huge city-building, and down one floor.

Yuuri sat forward, elbows on knees, chin on fists, staring into Yozak's face. "Yozak, why did Murata come with us, to Trondheim? Clearly he was afraid of the ghosts all along." Yozak's eyes darted left, down. "_Yozak,_" Yuuri insisted. "Murata's life may depend on you telling me the truth. Regardless of what he or anyone else said you should and shouldn't tell me."

Yozak's eyes quickly flashed toward Hasgrud and back. Yuuri pursed his lips. "Hasgrud is the trusted retainer of my trusted vassal. If you have anything embarrassing to tell us, I'll apologize. Out with it, please, Yozak. In fact, just go ahead and start with the parts you don't want to say in front of Hasgrud."

Yozak acquiesced. "General von Dienst was concerned about what he was hearing about sabotage on the Trondheim passes. He knows Friedrich von Bielenfeld is here, and couldn't imagine why Friedrich hadn't advised Lord Erick to call on von Dienst. He sought to… _'understand the scenario'_."

Yuuri nodded. "My commanding General is capable and diligent, and I can see why he would want to carry out… informal as well as formal inquiry. Would you like me to offer an apology with that, Hasgrud?"

Hasgrud blanched. "Certainly not, Sire. Nor to _me_, in any case!"

Yuuri nodded at him, with a soft reassuring smile. Yozak also breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Hasgrud. What else, Yozak? Anything else from von Dienst? Or Gwendal?"

"They both wanted to… check up on Lord Erick."

"That would follow," agreed Yuuri. "He's new at his job, and they see what appears to be a misjudgement. Hasgrud, if it makes you feel any better, they were mistrusting _my_ judgment as well – they wanted a more cynical, independent opinion from Yozak, right?" He smiled wryly at Yozak.

"You are… very trusting, Sire," agreed Yozak with a grin.

"Sire, please," said an unhappy Hasgrud, "I've no business judging you! It's simply my duty to report to Lord Erick. He needs good information to make good decisions, the same as General von Dienst."

Yuuri smiled at him. "Understood. And thank you, for serving Erick well, Hasgrud. And you, Yozak. I know you're doing your job. And helping Murata… So. Why would he come here?"

Yozak's glance flicked up to Hasgrud again and he gulped. Yuuri frowned. Yozak said, "His Highness… has been studying the spell Efram used… in the Fens."

Yuuri's eyes flew wide. Efram had killed ten trolls in the Krist Fens, with a single spell, by mistake. They were Hasgrud's comrades, including Adelbert and Brendan von Gratz' renegade father Adeldan, and a high-blood troll woman – religiously precious to the Tronds.

/ AN: these short fly-by's of long stories recap things that happened in another of my stories, or in the anime series. In this case, events from _The Trouble with Trolls._ /

"Continue," Yuuri said neutrally.

"He said the spell was very close to one he devised for Shinou. The one they believe… nearly genocided the trolls. Sire. He said he was secretly investigating the possibility of a counter-spell. He came to see what records might remain of that time, of any special sensitivities and weak spots, not only of trolls, but of all the non-demon Mazoku of Trondheim."

_Maybe there's something more dangerous and insulting he could have been doing to his hosts. But offhand, I can't think what,_ Yuuri thought sourly. _Murata had no right to carry out such research without informing me!_ "And what did you find out."

"There were a number of books he found interesting. We had them in a pile, along with some… very sensitive documents His Highness was carrying. The demon who brought us to breakfast took the pile. And there were a couple books that should be here, but we couldn't find."

Hasgrud wandered to a great box in the center of the archives. "Yozak, do you remember the missing titles?" he asked.

Yozak recited the two titles. Hasgrud wrote them down, located them with the index box, verified they weren't on the shelves, then crossed to another box. "Friedrich has them," he concluded. "Properly countersigned by Lady Alana. Medical research."

"Thank you, Hasgrud," said Yuuri. "Anything else, Yozak?"

"I… really hope Lord Erick hasn't seen those… sensitive documents. Sire."

Yuuri stared at him. "Then we'd better go retrieve them."

-oOo-

After keeping Aldrich waiting in the hall outside Erick's office for several minutes, the door finally opened. Guya'k'vriel darted out and escaped with a mumbled apology.

"I'm… sorry, Aldrich. Please come in," said Erick. He sat behind the desk and decided Aldrich was entirely too smart to offer an excuse. _We were having sex in my office and he probably knows that as well as I do._ "So. Good to see you, Aldrich. In my office? I take it this is… business?"

Aldrich told the retainer outside that they were not to be disturbed, and closed the door and took a seat. Erick stared at him in dismay.

"So, Guya's hot, huh?"

Erick scowled. _You didn't shut us in here to talk about Guy. I hope… _ "Thought you were into men these days."

"I'm flexible," said Aldrich, with a lopsided grin. "Always had a special weakness for hot elves. But yes, Manfred and I are trying out monogamy. And you? One special Guya?"

"Look, Aldrich, my father and your mother have been on my case for years about breaking up with Guya –"

"Looks to me like you're in love with her," Aldrich interrupted.

Erick stared at him, surprised. "Yes," he admitted. He'd expected Aldrich to roll out the familiar litany about why he couldn't have her. _She's too small to bear my children, she's full elf and the von Trondheims try to balance races, she's not high born, she's not dignified enough, or accomplished enough, she drinks too much… I am sick and tired of people criticizing elves!_

"That could make it rather difficult," said Aldrich. "To stay sober. If she can't stay sober. Is that what my father said to you? That made you start avoiding him and his advice? Because Erick, you really needed his advice."

"Look, I told you. I knew you'd be up here soon, and I waited to talk to you. OK, maybe that was a lapse in judgment. I'm sorry. I'm new at this, I thought we could handle it ourselves. Or at least, I believed that we needed to try handling it ourselves first. But I hear you, and I will write to von Dienst just as soon as," _you get out of my goddamned office, _"we're done here. So, is that all?"

"No. Erick… you know, the difference in your personality sober and when you've been drinking, is just night and day. And… I meant you really needed _both_ pieces of advice. Calling in von Dienst. And that… being in love with a drunk makes it really, really hard to stay sober. And you need to stay sober, Erick. We both know how hard this job is. It demands everything you've got. Trondheim _deserves_ everything you've got. You can't do it drunk. You know full well what an alcoholic is – you're surrounded by drunken elves. Your own mother, and Guya's as well, both died of this disease. You're not in any doubt on that score, are you? You know that you're an alcoholic, right?"

"What do you know about it!"

"_I'm _an alcoholic. Sober 85 years now."

Erick stared again. "You can't be. You must not have drunk very much."

Aldrich laughed. "Erick, my blood alcohol level was so high, Father had to wean me off, or I'd have died of the convulsions. The starting dose was an ounce of vodka every hour and a half. By the way, you don't drink that much, do you?"

"Sweet ghosts, no! Oy, Aldrich, and I outmass you by at least 50 pounds! What… made you quit?"

"Well, I quit and started again, lots of times. The last time, though, I hauled off and shattered my wife's jaw one night."

"Little_ Glynda!?_ She wasn't much bigger than Guy! _Why?_"

"Well, I imagine she pissed me off. But I can't say as I remember. But, that's what it took to get me to quit. I'm hellish stubborn, and I didn't care whether I lived or died. Well, no – I hated my life. I hope you're not that stubborn? Because it's a bottomless pit – you can always go lower. Anytime we start drinking again, we just… fall further.

"Erick, you're _phenomenal_ for this job. Do you remember the round of applause you got, the night Yuuri affirmed you as Lord Trondheim? With the _unanimous_ approval of the Eleven? You impressed the hell out of all of us, Erick, all summer long at the Racial Accords conference."

Erick couldn't swallow the compliment. He looked away. "But you'll ask me to step down as Lord Trondheim."

"No, I'll back you all the way."

"But only if I quit drinking."

"No. You've done nothing wrong."

Erick whispered, "You'll only back me because of my father."

"Nope. Granted, you were a very cute rug-rat. But I back _you_ as Lord Trondheim. Because I think you're the best man for Trondheim. My father, by the way, feels exactly the same. He believes in you, too. _And._ Both of us know that sooner or later, you have to quit drinking. I think you know that too. And we will back you in that, as well. So will my mother. Granted, Mother can be more annoying."

That surprised a laugh out of Erick. Then he grew sad. "She's never going to let up on me getting rid of Guya. Your father was pretty anti-Guya, too."

"Well, I think you may have misunderstood that one. You're in love with her, he sees that, I see that. Mother… isn't that way. People can criticize someone she loves, and she nods her head, _'yup-yup, you're right, he's scum'_ – does it to me all the time." Erick snorted rueful agreement. "But Father and I… we defend someone we love against all comers. He gets that, Erick.

"Father was saying something _else_. As an alcoholic, your chances of staying sober aren't very good – maybe one in twenty. Crappy odds. Now if you're making a plan, and one in twenty odds is the best you can do, then, well, if you can come up with twenty of those lame plans and do them in parallel, then maybe your chances are OK. The one-in-twenties almost add up to one-in-one. But if you hook them together the wrong way, so that two lame one-in-twenties chances have to succeed one after the other, your plan has only one chance in _four hundred_ of success.

"Now in about 15 minutes, there's a meeting of sober alcoholics in the mermaid tanks in the elf quarter." This wasn't a mermaid habitat – the baths at Trond Hall were identified by the mosaics that decorated the tanks. "Going _there_ is adding your lame one-in-twenties – if you go _there_, I don't think you'll drink today. But if in doubt, there's another meeting at the butterfly pyramid after supper, and another at the library at sunset. If you go to all three, you _won't _drink. But if you rig it so that you need Guya to get sober before you get sober, you're playing that one-in-four-hundred odds. Erick, that's all Father was trying to say."

Erick knotted his hands on his desk. He whispered, "I can't give her up."

"I see that. Could I give you some advice?"

Erick snorted. "And until now you've been doing… what?"

Aldrich grinned. "Just chatting. My advice is – go to that meeting. Say that you know you're an alcoholic, but you're not sure you want to stop drinking. Say you've got a girlfriend you're in love with, and she drinks. Just – dump all that there."

"I can't do that! I'm Lord Trondheim, I can't just go telling people… Yegads, Aldrich, you don't actually…?"

"Yup. Obviously, I have to skip names and speak in generalities."

"But, what if it gets back to, you know, Yuuri, or General von Dienst, or Gwendal…"

"Gwendal doesn't want to know. Yuuri and von Dienst are already worried. Finding out the exact nature of your… occasional lapses … and that you're working the problem, will make them much happier. They would wish you well. That's not just a guess, by the way. The von Bielenfelds are your sponsors for a _reason_, Erick. We actually do know these things. And Erick – _nobody_ knows them better than Father. So if I'm allowed just one _tiny_ bit more advice? _Please,_ Erick –_ talk _to my father. He's _here_ for you. _Use_ him. Try a daily dose for a week and see if matters don't improve. Give him a chance."

"Alright."

"Well, I'll let you go, it's a hike to the mermaid tank."

"No, I can't now, I have to write to von Dienst and –"

"_Mermaid tank,_" Aldrich insisted. "Yuuri and von Dienst will know if you_ don't_ go. And that won't make them happy at all. So, go spill your guts, feel better, reassure your colleagues that you're doing your best. And I'll see you later."

-oOo-

At the bottom of the sledding slope, surrounding by whooping children – some of them rather bigger than he was – Wolfram clambered out of the sled, laughing along with them. Greta stumbled over his leg and they both fell into the snow. He flipped over and they made snow angels together.

Getting up, face aching from grinning so much, Wolfram brushed himself off and checked, as he always did, that the precious little packet was still securely tied at his neck.

"You could have left it in the room," Manfred murmured, with a smile.

"I know, I just… like it with me," Wolfram replied, with a shy smile. Their one seed strong enough to become a baby, Wolfram and Yuuri's. They'd made a lot of seeds. He rubbed his nose – they'd probably made some this afternoon, in fact. But this precious one, he didn't like to be separated from. "Does Aldrich leave his… yours… in the room?"

Manfred smiled. "Always around his neck, just like yours. Hold up – everyone, quiet for a second, please! Efram, is she yelling for you?"

A woman in von Trondheim livery was indeed yelling for Efram, saying that Yuuri Maou required him.

"Aw…" and Efram trudged away.

Wolfram asked Manfred, "How's he doing, living with Aldrich?"

"Really well, actually. I think Diet's toughening up a little, too. Efram's really good with him, pushes him, but never too hard, always gives him a graceful way out." Manfred meditated on Dietrich a moment. The too-sweet boy was presently getting a snowball pushed down his neck by the tougher Trenton, but seemed to be handling it with good humor. Trenton was about to get trounced by two much bigger troll boys, who thought he was being mean. "You know… there's a great resort about 12 miles along, on the other side of this ridge. We could leave the kids here…"

"I like this idea," said Wolfram, grinning. "A troll hall?"

"Caters to everybody, diurnal and nocturnal as well. Great baths. Shall I set it up?"

"I don't think they'll leave until Murata and the passes are resolved," worried Wolfram. He ducked a snowball from Brendan and winged one back at him.

Manfred shook his head firmly. "Then there'll be another excuse, and another and another. Time to draw the line. We've come all this way. I say we demand just a couple days' honeymoon. Leave all this Trondheim stuff for the Tronds to solve. And leave the kids here."

-oOo-

Alone on the roof above the dining room, Aldrich lowered his arms from the ritual ghost summoning, and took a seat. He felt silly in his mother's red-bustled pleated leather coat, and fur-trimmed dress bonnet and mitts. But the only outfits in the dining room closet were hers and Erick's – a choice of one size too big, or three sizes too big.

"So, old friend," he began in a quiet, wistful voice. "Is it true what you always said? That we hear only our own imagination projected onto the ghosts, not the ghosts themselves? Can you hear me Franklin? Can I hear you?"

_"/ What are we doing here?/"_ _demanded Murata. "/ Are you taking me back now?/"_

_"/ Sh, Aldrich summoned me,/" replied Franklin, taking a seat by his closest friend in life. "/Aldrich, I can hear you. Can you hear me?/"_

_"/ If that's Aldrich, why is he wearing women's clothes?/" asked Murata. Franklin ignored him._

A light wolf zoomed its way to Aldrich's side, and sat companionably with him, overlooking the ski and sled trails upslope from Trond Hall, glittering dark diamonds in the scattering of light. "I'm here, old friend," said the wolf. Murata and Franklin could hear the wolf speak in Franklin's voice, the words Aldrich heard in his mind. The light wolf Franklin had sat right on top of the ghost Franklin.

"Not that we could tell either way, right? That was your argument," said Aldrich, reminiscing. "I miss you like hell, Franklin."

_"/ I miss you, too, Aldrich./"_ "As I miss you," said the wolf.

_"/ He did hear you! Aldrich? Aldrich, can you hear me?/"_ yelled Murata, waving his arms.

_"/ Obvious coincidence. Shut up, or I'll throw you off the roof./"_

"I finally married Manfred. It's… amazing. It's even better than I'd ever imagined. We're going to have children next fall, two babies, his and mine. I never would have thought we could have children together. It's… It was worth waiting for."

_"/ You're getting sappy, there, Rick. Hey, wait – how are you going to have babies with Manfred?/" said Franklin._

"You waited a long lonely time for this. I'm happy for you, old friend," said the light wolf Franklin.

"_/ And the verdict is: you're definitely talking to yourself, Rick./" Yet Franklin made no move to leave._

"So many changes, so long since I've talked to you," continued Aldrich. "We averted war. We have new Racial Accords, giving non-demons equal protection with demons under the law, throughout Shin Makoku. Chichi is living here now – with Mother, can you believe it? They're even sharing a bedroom! Anyway, he's doing troll mating research. So no one else will have to die the way you did, Lin. I promise you, we'll do our best to redeem your sacrifice."

"_/ I knew you'd keep faith with the future./"_ "I knew you'd keep faith with the future," said the light wolf. _Murata gnawed on a hand._

"That's what you said, in your final note to me, isn't it. That you'd keep faith with the past, and I'd keep faith with the future. Oh… Erick's drinking again. He's really in love with Guya'k'vriel. I'm afraid he'll decide it's a choice between the booze and Guya on the one hand, versus living up to himself and Trondheim on the other, you know?"

"_/ That imbecile inherited Trondheim and then hit the bottle again? I've warned him time and again – that hot little elf spy is poison for him./"_ "I know you'll take good care of my son."

Aldrich nodded, but confessed, "I'm in kind of a bind, though, Lin. I came to Trondheim to do this _'honeymoon'_ thing with Manfred. But the ghosts have stolen Murata, Yuuri's so-called _'Great Sage'._ Were you part of that? And somebody's sabotaging the passes. And Erick's in trouble. I can't do all of it. What do you think I should do?"

"_/ Do the parts only you can do./"_ "Do the parts only you can do," advised the light wolf.

"_/ What? Tell him to help Yuuri!/" cried Murata._

"_/ He wouldn't hear me. Pipe down,/" said the ghost Franklin._

Aldrich chuckled softly. "You're right –" He was interrupted by a knock at the door onto the roof.

Erick poked his head out, and bowed it to the light wolf. "May I join you?"

"Mm, kind of a private converation?" replied Aldrich. "Oh, hey, did you make it to the mermaid tank?"

"Yeah, it helped a lot. Thank you. Really, Aldrich. I kind of… wanted to get a moment alone to say that. Thank you for our talk this morning, and pushing me to go there. Ah, I should let you get back to… Father?"

"_/ Hello, Erick. Are you alright, son?/"_ "Yes, son. I love you. I'm proud of the way you're running Trondheim."

Erick laughed softly. "You know, if that were really Father, he'd never say that. Anyway, Aldrich, we're gathering for lunch. Alana and Yuuri want to call the ghosts, in case they bring Murata back. So… any idea how long you'll be?"

"Oh! Sorry. I'll wrap up and be down in just a few minutes." Erick nodded and closed the door. "Where was I. Oh, yeah, you're right. Manfred and Erick are the parts only I can do. Thank you. That helps."

"_/ Wait, what was that thing about the passes?/"_ "Of course. It was good to see you, Rick."

"And you." Aldrich looked at the wolf longingly. "Good bye, Lin."

"_/ Be well, Rick. I miss you./"_ "Be well, Rick."

Franklin stayed sitting within the light wolf, watching Aldrich walk away and close the door behind him. The light wolf cried a few tears of ice.

-oOo-

_Any theories about what's wrong with the ghosts and how to fix it?_

_Please review?_


	5. Murata's Surrender

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 5 – Murata's Surrender**

"How much time do we have before they summon the ghosts for the meal?" Murata asked suddenly.

Franklin left off gazing sadly at the door where Aldrich had just departed, and stood. His light wolf manifestation scattered in a prismatic burst. He waved an arm and they were suddenly otherwhen. "Time is only an issue when we're in the present," he said. "We can visit infinitely much past without any change in the present, if we wish. What would you like time for?"

Murata gazed around himself. They were at a summer night festival, a bizarre tableau of dancing people and shades of the dead. Columns of earth grew and shrank, trolls doing acrobatics off of them, and a dragon flew overhead. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Yuuri and Greta in the throng. Judging from the fast-maturing Greta's appearance, this must have been recent. "Where are we?"

"Bielenfeld Fairgrounds, I think. A party this past summer for Erick's inauguration as Lord Trondheim. We're not here for any particular reason – you just wanted time for something, right? Well, I flashed on the last time I saw Erick and Aldrich, is all." Franklin allowed them both to drink in the scene for a little while, then reminded him, "You wanted time for something before they call the ghosts for the meal?"

"Oh, yeah." Murata crossed his arms thinking, resting chin in hand. "Communicating in ghost form with the living doesn't seem to work well."

"No," Franklin agreed. "We do visit, and it helps. But the communication is pretty one-sided, from the living to the dead."

"How does it help?"

"It soothes the pain. We are remembered, cared about. Trondheim's shamans, and death feasts, the dances with the dead at midsummer and midwinter, give us what little life and hope we have. Well, I'm really speaking of the others, more than myself. I have incarnated lately. Though, as less than half troll, it was a weak life, as though much of myself just couldn't fit… Are you sure this isn't a tangent?"

Murata nodded slowly, watching the shade of Franklin dance with Aldrich and Erick. "It was a very interesting tangent. But about the meal – you can't speak well to the living, but you can take them, like you took me. Could you take someone for a few moments? Just to tell them something?"

"Depends on the person. Elves are easy, so they usually boycott ghost ceremonies. Shamans are nearly impossible – that includes Aldrich and Erick and Alana. If we were just trying to deliver a message, though, I'm sure there would be someone in the room. Why, what message were you thinking of?"

"I don't have one yet, but I was thinking we could use those meal ceremonies to coordinate Yuuri's efforts with mine, to solve this thing. But… do I even know what solving this thing means…" he said, drifting off into thought. "Franklin, if there are no suitable bodies to incarnate into… What makes you think I could solve that?"

"That's not all there is to it," said Franklin, also frowning in thought. "Something fractured at that time, or was seriously damaged. Even for those incarnate, it's not complete, has never gotten back to normal. Even here for instance." He indicated the Bielenfeld Fairgrounds with a swoop of his arm. "Ever since Shinou defeated Soushu, Bielenfeld souls – demon souls – are locked to Bielenfeld, always reincarnating _here._ That's not normal for a demon. Granted, no one sheds a tear – Bielenfelders are quite happy in Bielenfeld. But to take another borderline example, elves. The number of elves hasn't dwindled much since Shinou's time. But the quality of elf life has plummeted. Their lives tend to be short and hopeless, drowned in alcohol. Yet elves were once one of the most brilliant, gifted, artistic races. Wood nymphs – they didn't even die in the catastrophe, they went comatose. Other wood nymphs have been born since that time – but they were _born_ in comas. Part-trolls are weak, they can't seem to reincarnate fully. There are some few fauns and centaurs left, and dragons, but they continue to dwindle. I don't understand what was done to us, Murata. But the ghosts of Trondheim are not natural."

"Why only Trondheim?"

"The ghosts didn't all come from Trondheim. Trondheim is a mecca, because they treat ghosts so well. Short of a solution that lets us fully live again, being there is as good as it gets. Though… haunting them is a poor reward for their kindness. And despite their kindness, the ghosts are slowly going mad. Aldrich said something about the passes? Was there a problem at the Escarpment?"

"We didn't see any trouble, but the garlic-sellers told me there were serious problems last week before they were reinforced with shamans. I dismissed the comment at the time as a garlic sales pitch."

"No," sighed Franklin. "Several happenings this past year raised fresh hope, but then dashed it hard. When a soul feels its last hope snap, it goes insane. The ghosts will be worse in Trondheim this year than ever before, because the lift in hope and the following crash were too much for too many."

"Are you sure it isn't you inciting them?" asked Murata.

Franklin didn't rise to the bait. "I love Trondheim's people, dead and alive," he said simply. "I would do anything to ensure their prosperity and happiness."

Murata believed him. Alive or dead, King Vladimir or Lord Franklin, this soul was commited to serving Trondheim's people. His aim was not to terrorize, but something even more ruthless in its own way. He would leave no stone unturned to find a solution to his people's grief. Murata had been soul-napped by a zealot.

"And you blame me for their predicament," he said bitterly.

Franklin considered that, and sighed. "I think you likely caused this. But even if you didn't, I think you're still the most likely to figure out how to solve it. Do you disagree, sage?"

"_'Do what only you can do'_," Murata parroted, as both Franklin and his light wolf had advised Aldrich. He set out to say this sarcastically, but realized in the saying that he believed it as well. _It doesn't matter what my reason was for causing this, or even if I caused it at all. If only I can fix it… I can therefore I must. Wasn't how you got me into this whole mess in the first place, Shinou?We could, therefore we must? _ "Very well. I surrender, Franklin. We'll find a solution. Or, at least, discover the cause, what happened back then."

"Thank you. On behalf of the living and dead of Trondheim, I thank you deeply."

Murata inclined his head vaguely to accept the thanks. But the strange alchemy of surrender was already working upon him. No longer dividing his energy by fighting his situation, embracing it whole-heartedly, he found he was eager to press on. "Very well. Then before we visit the present again, we need to identify what we would like the living to do for us. And to tell them that I am fine, and choose to work this problem."

-oOo-

"Aldrich says he'll be done talking in just a few minutes," reported Erick, rejoining the group in the dining hall.

Trenton and Dietrich groaned. "He never stops talking…"

Erick laughed and ruffled their heads, which lay drooped onto their arms on the table. Alana had invited everyone to be seated until the ceremony. Their guests were practically sleep-walking by now, around eleven at night, having risen before dawn and traveled and played outdoors much of the time since. Erick visited with the boys, who extracted a promise to show them around the reeking pyramid where they kept the pet mokonas tomorrow night. This revived the boys slightly, as they plotted how to give the carrion-feeding mokonas a bath.

Yuuri sat gazing at Murata, Wolfram rubbing his neck. He'd spent the past couple hours in the archives, studying the books the sage had been at such pains to steal, with the help of Conrad, Efram, Friedrich, and Hasgrud. Efram had fearfully confirmed that indeed he had told Murata how he'd killed the trolls. That was part of the _'sensitive documents'_ Murata had left behind. Yuuri assured the boy he wasn't angry – it was understandable that Efram had trusted Murata.

Study of the books hadn't revealed much. They didn't really know what they were looking for. If Murata was not returned by the ghosts, Yuuri planned to bring the von Trondheims into their deliberations after lunch. Although, he realized with a yawn, he just wasn't good for much more thinking tonight. He'd spent his nap time making love to Wolfram, nothing more on his mind than his _'honeymoon'_ – family vacation – at that time.

"Guya'k'vriel," Alana said, surprised, as the elf came in and quietly took a seat. "I know it's late, but we haven't called the ghosts yet."

Guya looked wrung out and hungover, eyes red from crying, but spoke with quiet dignity. "I'd like to stay for the ghosts tonight, if I may, Lady Alana."

"Of course, you're always welcome," said Alana, kindly, but clearly at a loss for why the young elf would choose to do that. Erick looked over at her, but neither smiled, and they couldn't meet each other's eyes for long.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Aldrich, thumping down the roof stair in his fluffly bonnet and red-bustled lady's coat. Manfred scowled at him, which he returned with a jaunty crooked smile. "Mother, I don't think Manfred likes how I look in your clothes."

"I applaud Manfred's good taste," agreed Alana. "You look ghastly, Aldrich. Alright, everyone, we're late with lunch, so let's get started." They arranged themselves, ladies and the Maou seated, the rest standing, with slumping young boys leaning on nearby adults. And they summoned the ghosts.

The roof trapdoor opened. The maelstrom of light wolves zoomed in and around the room quickly, with little howling this time. At Yuuri's request, Efram cast no majustsu defenses.

A painfully bright and slender light wolf wrapped itself around a wide-eyed Guya, as Alana and Aldrich, but especially Erick, looked on in horror.

-oOo-

"Lord Franklin," Guya said, in amazement, with a deep curtsey. "And you must be the Great Sage, Murata." She took in the scenery only slowly, distracted by the fact that she seemed to be in the middle of a slender and very bright light wolf. But that didn't seem to be doing her any harm – in fact, the light wolf seemed to support and reassure her. She looked around at the rest of her surroundings, at the Bielenfeld Fairgrounds. "Midsummer…" she said thoughtfully. She'd danced with the Trondheim elves at the event.

"It's good to see you, Guya," said Franklin, with a gulp betraying how deeply he meant it. For he really cared about his son's lover for her own sake, a talented and trusted retainer. His disapproval of their relationship was due to fear for them, not any dislike for her. "How is my son?"

She loked down sadly, but the light wolf seemed to be lending her courage and strength. "He is struggling to rule Trondheim well, and was drinking again… but I think he'll stay sober this time. We've agreed never to see each other again, except sober."

"I wish you both all the best in the world in that," breathed Franklin, heartfelt.

Guya half-smiled. "Though you'd rather we never saw each other again."

"I'd truly _rather _you be happy. As a father… It's frustrating, but happiness is not a gift that a parent can give."

Guya chuckled softly in appreciation. "So. Why am I here? I assume I'm not dead."

"No. We need you to give Shibuya a message," said Murata. "Ah – the Maou. Please tell him that I'm here willingly – now. I wasn't at first. But I'm researching how the ghosts of Trondheim came to be. Hm. How good is your memory?"

"Guya'k'vriel is the best spy in Trondheim," vouched Franklin. "She can carry a complex message." That's why he picked her – there were other souls he could have taken, but Guya was the most reliable messenger.

Murata summarized the problem. Guya's eyes flashed olive green fire at the suggestion that the elves could be restored to their former strength and glory. He added, "I could be gone several more days. More time, subjectively for us, but several days of present time. There is a task I'd like Yuuri to pursue – constructing as exact a timeline as possible of when the ghosts appeared, or their numbers grew, or their nature changed, in Trondheim. Cross-referenced to events. For instance, were there ghosts before Soushu began his conquest here in Trondheim? Were there ghosts before Soushu first appeared in Cimarron, before this continent? If he could get help from the wood nymph Tariel, or Troll Mother, who lived at that time, that would be excellent."

"And King Vladimir's diaries," added Franklin. "He and his advisors kept extensive notes at that time, which we can't access as ghosts." He and Murata had tried to read over Vladimir's shoulder, but Franklin could only access strong memories. A soothing bedtime ritual didn't tend to etch strong memories. Four thousand year old details were not retrievable unless attached to something vivid. "Those should help you construct a timeline."

"And also, well, anything else Shibuya – Yuuri – can think of, that might help the ghosts, whether it's part of our research or not," suggested Murata.

"I understand," said Guya. "And I bless your quest with all my heart. Lord Franklin, may I also convey any greetings to your family?"

"Tell Erick I believe in him and will always help him all I can. Tell Aldrich we were right that light wolves don't transmit what ghosts are saying, although I really did say _'Do what only you can do'_. Tell Alana… that I believe her happiness and Erick's happiness are key to making them the best rulers they can be."

Guya stared at him, then slowly nodded. "I'll do my best to convey what you have said." She nodded respect at Murata, and curseyed deeply again to Franklin. He touched her face with a brief smile.

And suddenly she was back at the dining room table, as the brilliant light wolf unwound from her. It _hurt_ to have the wolf leave her. She reached out after it with a soft cry, as it flew away back out the trapdoor.

-oOo-

The moment the light wolf let go of Guya, Erick rushed to her and snatched her up, cradling her to his chest. "Are you alright, my love? Did they hurt you?" Friedrich and Yuuri checked Murata's prone form on the cot – no change.

Guya told them all of her meeting with Franklin and Murata, securely nestled in Erick's lap and strong arms. "Oh, damn," she said at the end. "I didn't think to ask about the passes. I'm so sorry, Erick," she said, biting her lip.

"Shh, love, it's alright. You did very well," said Erick. "You cried out when the ghost left you – did it hurt you?" Erick was puzzled by that light wolf – in no way had it appeared to be his father. Elf light wolves were always agile and bright. They didn't feel like troll wolves at all.

Guya shook her head emphatically. "The light wolf? No, it just hurt for her to leave me. She wasn't a ghost."

"What?" chorused the von Trondheim shamans.

"That was _my_ light wolf," Guya insisted. "I'm not dead."

Erick and Alana stared at each other. Aldrich said, "I've only seen troll light wolves before. Are elf wolves always so bright?"

"Yes," said Alana thoughtfully. "And demon light wolves are very dim. Usually when a ghost takes a person to speak, it is an ancestor they speak with, a departed parent or grandparent warning them of something. Was there not an elf ancestor with you, Guya'k'vriel?"

"No," said Guya, emphatically. "Lord Franklin, Murata, and me. And my light wolf supporting me."

Yuuri was understandably less interested than the von Trondheims in these finer points of troll shaman theology. His family was fairly Westernized, and carried out the old Shinto rituals without taking them seriously. His unexamined assumption was that a shaman was a primitive salve to the gullible. "We should eat, and put the children to bed," he requested.

"I'm sorry. Yes, of course," said Alana, returning to her seat. Erick and Guya separated to chairs next to each other, but remained holding hands. In reflex, she almost reminded Erick to take his proper seat, but thought better of it, considering her message from Franklin. Instead she called in the elves and the food.

"Darkscales and Annabelle remember then, don't they, great-uncle?" Trenton pointed out. "We could ask them, too." These were the eldest of the dragons, who also lived in Shinou's time. The boys were crazy for dragons, as were most von Bielenfelds.

"Excellent suggestion, Trenton," replied Friedrich. "I can get in touch with them through Tariel or Garena. Erick, will you summon Troll Mother?" His tone and face suggested he hoped the answer was _'No'_. Friedrich didn't approve of his son Aldrich meeting Troll Mother any more than necessary. Manfred concurred.

"No, not yet," agreed Erick. "It would take days to get her a message in any case," he told Alana, "and days more to arrive. King Vlad's diaries are here in the archives, though, aren't they?"

"I don't think so," said Alana. "Scholar Raisa is working with them, I believe. Well, if so, we can send for them easily enough. She's just up at Boom Falls."

"Boom Falls, that was the name of the resort!" Manfred said to Wolfram. "Aldrich, actually Wolfram and I were just talking about visiting Boom Falls for a few nights. Just the four of us." He smiled an evil green-eyed demon smile of steel at his newlywed husband. "You know, that _honeymoon_ concept."

Yuuri opened his mouth to object, but Wolfram beat him to it. "Yuuri, this Raisa person might be an excellent person to _delegate_ with the job of constructing this ghost timeline, wouldn't she, Alana?" Alana nodded with a smile. "So going to Boom Falls resort for a few days would work out _perfectly_." His evil green-eyed demon smile matched his father's uncannily.

"And I'll follow up with Tariel and Garena and the dragons while you're gone," offered Friedrich, with a similar smile at his son. Aldrich's lopsided green smile in return conceded the point – he wasn't needed here.

"I could escort them to Boom Falls, Lord Erick," offered Hasgrud.

Alana shot a pointed look at Guya.

"No, I'll take them, Hasgrud," said Guya quietly. While Aldrich had spoken to Erick about his drinking, Alana and a couple sober elf women had spoken with Guya. One of the ideas they'd touched upon was that Guya didn't drink while in the field, and it would be easier for Erick to give up drinking while she was gone. Thus an assignment away would be good for both of them.

"But you just got back from the Kriegsbad Pass," objected Erick. "You should rest."

"She'll get plenty of rest tonight. They can set out tomorrow afternoon," said Alana. "So that's _settled_. An excellent idea, thank you, Guya'k'vriel."

"Ah…" attempted Yuuri.

"_That's settled_, wimp," reinforced Wolfram.

-oOo-

_Please review?_


	6. The Fairy Circle

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 6 – The Fairy Circle**

Fresh from a very _cozy_ night's sleep, with not one but_ two _sons cuddled between Manfred's new husband and himself – Dietrich and Efram were both freaked by the ghosts – Manfred started the new day _inspired_ to make a quick getaway for their honeymoon in Boom Falls. Tactful Conrad had mercifully relieved them of the boys around 10 am. At which point Manfred was persuaded into a little lovemaking appetizer to the honeymoon, followed by a quick dip in the troll men's vast open baths – five big tanks kept at five different temperatures, and nearly empty in late morning.

By the time they made it back to their rooms, Wolfram sadly reported that Yuuri had escaped. They'd spent the night with a ghost-skittish Greta themselves. Yuuri wandered away looking for someone to take charge of the girl before Conrad could head him off.

"I'll go find him," said Aldrich, and left. Manfred suspected that sending Ricky the Social Troll to retrieve Yuuri, was just begging for another two hours' delay. But it couldn't be helped. Manfred hadn't visited Trond Hall since before Wolfram was born, and Wolfram never. So he and Wolfram resignedly set to packing.

Conrad and Yozak and the boys intercepted Yuuri and took charge of Greta. But then Yuuri tagged along with them to the von Trondheim kitchens, to snag some portable breakfast to support the _'early start for Boom Falls'_ agenda. However, once there, Yuuri ran into Lord Erick, scrounging a snack before bed, having worked long into the morning.

And Yuuri was struck by a guilty conscience. Alas Wolfram was not along to strike him with something more appropriate – a right hook, for instance. Yuuri had yet to speak one-on-one with his newest, youngest vassal, and yesterday got the distinct impression that dear Lord Erick was struggling. Yuuri was concerned. Yuuri wanted to help.

A bleary Erick wished that Yuuri would just hit the road and get laid up in Boom Falls, but hid his yawns behind a polite hand. "A talk? Certainly, Sire. Perhaps we should… walk and talk." He was afraid he'd nod off if they talked at his desk.

As they walked, Erick told him how it was going. Transportation through these mountains in winter, as Yuuri had already seen, was a perennial concern for the von Trondheim government. Erick wanted to keep the Gratz Pass open year-round, but had been too overwhelmed with work to see if any old studies into the problem could be made feasible.

Yuuri assured him that Erick had been stuck at the Racial Conference in Bielenfeld for four of the mere seven months since his inauguration. Erick should relax – some miracles take longer. Erick laughed and thanked him.

On the level of Trond Hall's second floor, they reached a grotto. At this point a spine of the bedrock jutted up, with a living geyser. Mountain trolls were originally cave dwellers, and liked a bit of cave in their built halls. So they'd vaulted this with stone millenia ago, at somewhat shorter than the natural height of the geyser. The geyser's calcium carbonate load was gradually raising the floor, splashing the ceiling, and decorating the place with stalagmites and stalactites, multicolored from ores in the ceiling stones. The Tronds threw in some dead wood and benches and red lighting to complete the décor. Erick broke some fungus off a log and offered it to Yuuri. Erick tore into his with his slight fangs, which clued Yuuri in that it was a snack. Yuuri found he liked it. The flavor was like a buttery croissant, though the texture was a stiff taffy chew.

Erick continued his situation report. In a development both gratifying and problematic, many of the dwindling races liked what they heard about multi-racial Trondheim during the Racial Conference. Once the harvest was in, many packed up their lives wherever and moved to Trondheim in droves. Of course, harvest down below was well into the long mountain winter, so food stocks were a bit strained. More strained were living conditions, since mountain winter was not the time to be constructing new halls. Getting people to take in newcomers in small groups was easy enough, but Erick preferred these small communities of rare races to stick together for mutual support, and it was hard to shoehorn them in as intact communities.

Unfortunately, that left many wintering in tent cities down around Kriegsbad, in many respects the least tolerant area of all Trondheim. Erick had been gradually been moving them up the dangerous Kriegsbad Pass – with rations – to mountain communities willing to adopt single-racial groups just for the winter. But now the pass was closed. His engineers promised to restore emergency traffic soon, but permanent new bridge supports needed footing in rock, not ice. And no way would Erick send endangered species of mountain newbies up a juryrigged pass that was dangerous at the best of times. Yet in the meantime, interracial strains and incidents were mounting in Kriegsbad, located all too close to the violently racist Krist border.

Trondheim's collaboration with Donaghie to reopen the great mines near Pitchblende were bearing fruit. Friedrich's research into troll mating fatalities seemed to be going well, though solutions were probably still years away. But Erick was also concerned about the demons in Trondheim. He'd been struck by how different the lowland demons seemed, so vivacious compared to demons here, by far the most subdued of the Trond races. Demons were an integral and treasured part of Trondheim society, but Erick wondered if they might not be better off down below, somehow. And if so… why. It was passing strange how different the demons were just across the Trondheim borders with Krist, Walde, and Gratz. He wished he could get another health research team looking at that question.

Aldrich finally located them, and grabbed some fungus to join them, listening in until a natural break in the flow of conversation. "/ _Have you slept, Erick? Gotten any exercise?_/" he asked in concern, in Trondish, trying to pass it off as a simple greeting.

"/ _Not yet,_/" admitted Erick, rubbing his eyes. "/ _I haven't gone skiing in weeks._/"

"Sire," Aldrich said gently, "Erick's being way too polite. He hasn't gone to bed yet, and he's overworking himself mercilessly. Erick, you can tell Yuuri these things. He understands."

"Oh!" cried Yuuri in dismay, rising instantly. "How foolish of me! I apologize, Lord Erick, I just wasn't thinking. Yes, please tell me when I'm overlooking the obvious. Everybody does – they have to."

As they walked Erick to his long-delayed bed, Yuuri did give him some feedback on what he'd said. He made Erick promise to discuss his refugee / settler problems with Conrad and Brendan while he was gone, and after consulting with them, to request General von Dienst provision the tent cities by Kriegsbad, and possibly relieve crowding by removing some settlers to Walde and Gratz until more lasting homes and safe transport was available. He was confident the Suberian refugee half-Mazoku community in Bruscella, at the base of the Escarpment, would welcome fellow refugees warmly. And there was no problem transporting food there.

When Yuuri wound down, Aldrich exacted another promise, that Erick take care of himself better, get his exercise every day, and _'do what he needed to do'. _ He left '_to keep sober'_ unsaid, though Erick caught his meaning easily.

"I wonder if Mother could take up more of the slack for you," Aldrich suggested. "Administration is her job, after all. Yours is leadership, which is why going short-tempered from lack of sleep and no exercise," _and hangovers,_ "won't cut it in the long run. See if you can lean on her a bit harder."

Yuuri nodded emphatically. "You're doing a great job, Erick, but it's just no good if you're worried and haggard all the time. It's hard to learn to delegate." _Or so I've been told. Actually, I personally found it… hard not to keep shirking. But we won't go there. _"Everyone seems to struggle at finding the right balance with that at first. But take care of yourself. Some problems, just take longer. And lean on your friends. You've got a lot of friends, and we're happy to help."

As they reached Erick's apartment door, Yuuri quipped, "I bet having a dragon or two – aerial firepower support – would help with those bridges, huh? Hm, and the Kriegsbad situation as well. Maybe we should invite some back."

Aldrich and Erick stared at him.

Erick turned and lightly knocked his head into the door frame. "Stupid. I've been so _stupid_… And Friedrich is right here, and he can talk to the dragons for me…. And a dragon or two could even keep Gratz Pass _open_ for the winter… _Stupid!_ Argh… Aldrich, you make this Lord job look so easy, and you've only been at it three years!"

"Whoa…" said Aldrich. "Not fair, comparing me to you! Erick, I became _heir_ of Bielenfeld around your age, and that was nearly a century and a half ago. Ask Brendan. He was closer to your position – adolescent, suddenly thrust into a serious job he wasn't sure he wanted. You're doing great, Erick, you really are. Just – take it a little easier on yourself, OK?"

Yuuri nodded, smiling warmly at Erick. "You grow into the job. Hell, Erick, you're leagues ahead of me when I got the Maou job. And with a lot of help from my friends, eventually I got better at it. After seven years, I think I'm on the verge of almost being competent to be your king."

They shook hands all around, and at last Aldrich and Yuuri headed back to their furious matched pair of green-eyed blond demons, to set off on their mini-honeymoon under fiery green glares. They didn't get underway until almost 2 pm.

-oOo-

Wolfram expected Manfred to be his ally in preventing their husbands from talking politics on the trip to Boom Falls. Manfred considered politics uninteresting. And they were surrounded by beautiful snow-capped mountain vistas, _shushing_ along on a pretty sleigh, with a lovely elf as their madcap driver.

But Manfred's public service realm as a Lord was public health and welfare. "Interesting," he said. "So demons are subdued here… Guya, do visiting demons also seem subdued? Don't count us. Compare other demons you've known up here and below."

"Not noticeably," said Guya. "But…" Manfred encouraged her to go on. "It goes the other way, too. Trolls are different in Gratz. There aren't many elves down below – we're _so_ not welcome in Krist and Walde. But the few I've met… Well, if those were the only elves I knew, I wouldn't want elves around, either."

"Goblins?"

"Goblins seem happy no matter where they are. The few Walde goblins I've met seemed to be thriving. But trolls and elves take good care of them in Trondheim. Well, demons here are very good to them, too. The demons down below... not so much."

Manfred switched to Aldrich. "You know trolls best, here and Gratz. How are they different?"

"Hm… Hard to tell, what's cultural and what's not. Gratz trolls are divorced from their troll heritage and religion. They're basically trolls acting like demons. Maybe they're just good actors. Though… I was kinda worried about bringing Brendan up here."

"Why's that?" asked Yuuri.

"His father Adeldan always shunned the Tronds. No love lost between him and Franklin's father, and he wasn't friendly with Franklin either. Then he finally came up to Trondheim, once. Went back to Gratz, and within a month, he abandoned domain and family to meet his destiny here. Disappeared into the troll reservation and wasn't heard from again. Until he died kidnapping my son under Troll Mother's orders. My first inclination is to say Adeldan was off his rocker, but…"

Manfred sighed. "He sure never seemed unbalanced before. I would have said he was devoted to Aunt Sophie and his sons. And Gratz. And solid as a rock. Very strange."

"You're strange, down below, Lord Aldrich," offered Guya. "Actually, you're acting like down-below on this trip, too, kinda. If you don't mind my saying so, m'Lord."

"Yeah," said Aldrich, looking off into the distance. "I'm being my von Bielenfeld self instead of my von Trondheim self, pretty much. I seem to keep them separate. Once, when I was little, my father came up to Trondheim with me. It was… awful. I was supposed to stay after he left, but I just fell apart, in hysterics that he couldn't leave me here. Mother was pretty upset... So, I went home with Father, and Hasgrud had to come all the way to Bielenfeld to fetch me back again, a couple weeks later. I made a real nuisance of myself. Anyway… it was easier to have two different me's, rather than try to be both."

Hearing the note of pain in that, Manfred threw his arms around Aldrich's shoulders and neck from behind. "Deep," he commented, smiling a challenge to cheer up. He asked Guya, "So this man's holding out on me, huh? I haven't met the troll inside my Lord Bielenfeld yet, huh? Aldrich, we're going to have to do something about this." He playfully poked under Aldrich's earmuffs and down his collar with a prodding finger. "Show me your inner troll, dear."

And they were all treated to the most unreserved laugh they'd ever heard from Aldrich. "Hey, now I remember why I married you…"

"Nah, it was for my looks." Despite Manfred's best evil green-eyed demon smile, Aldrich's return smile was broad and genuine.

So they dropped the topic for another hour or so, companionably cuddled beneath furs in the sleigh. Manfred and Yuuri leaned back on opposite sides of the sleigh, Aldrich and Wolfram in their arms before them. Aldrich's long legs stretched across, boots propped beside Yuuri's shoulder. The much shorter Wolfram rested his boots on Yuuri's luggage, occasionally shifting the wrapped Morgif around with a toe.

Manfred egged Aldrich into singing troll songs, and Guya to help him sing elf songs. Wolfram nudged Yuuri into singing songs from Earth as well. He shared how he'd grown up between different cultures as Aldrich had, even before he'd come to their world. Wolfram shyly shared that he'd often been split between two worlds, too, between his parents. And the sun lowered. Long blue and purple shadows stole across the snow.

"We're about halfway," called back Guya from the reins, during a snuggly lull behind her. "Shall we stop for dinner here, m'Lord Aldrich?"

"Ah, actually, do you know the fairy circle, Guya? That's only a little out of our way. Let's stop there." To his travel companions, Aldrich added, "It's a ring of trees. Um, I planted them. A long time ago."

"How long ago?" inquired Manfred, wondering whether these trees were his and Aldrich's strange offspring.

"About a century," replied Aldrich. _No, they're not yours._ Aldrich and Manfred had become lovers some fifteen years later.

"You'll call the ghosts, then?" said Guya.

"Ghosts?" asked Wolfram, uneasy.

"That's why it's called the fairy circle," explained Guya. "The ghosts dance inside the ring. Did you and Lord Franklin call them there, Lord Aldrich?"

"No. I never went there with Franklin, actually," said Aldrich. Guya shot him a strange look, which he didn't meet. She tactfully turned back to her driving.

"Franklin and yours?" Manfred whispered a guess in Aldrich's ear. "My father's and yours?" Aldrich pursed his lips in a frown. "Oh, I know. General Lord Walde's illicit tree children, Gwendal's half siblings. No, he died before then, didn't he?" Aldrich suppressed a smile. "Adeldan's love children? Did you have an affair with Adeldan, Aldrich? No?" Aldrich was shaking with muffled laughter. "Franklin's," concluded Manfred. "I didn't think you two did that." Aldrich unlaughed, face caught in a smile that was no longer entirely comfortable.

"I've just never come home to Trondheim before, without Lin here, you know?" Aldrich turned his cheek into Manfred's chest, eyes clenched shut. Manfred hugged him closer, snuggling his face into Aldrich's hair, murmuring things to gentle him.

Yuuri and Wolfram averted their eyes from the other couple, giving them what privacy they could. "Why do we have a guide if Aldrich knows the way?" Yuuri asked in Wolfram's ear, nuzzling his cheek.

"Aldrich's a royal prince of two domains, Yuuri." Bielenfeld and Trondheim were a venerable kingdom and queendom before joining Shin Makoku. Their Lords still rated as royalty, as well as Aristocrats. "Guya's on loan to see to his every personal convenience and safety, and he thinks nothing of it. Aldrich even had a valet to tend his underwear in the _army_, love." They ended up laughing in each others' arms as well.

The way to the fairy circle took them farther up the ridge than the direct route, into a high hollow, barren except for the lonely stand of about a dozen pine trees, trunks three feet wide, crowns soaring 150 feet above. Some few of their branches just barely reached their neighbors around the broad circle, like a dark ring of giant paper dolls holding hands.

/ AN: fwiw, I'm picturing mature ponderosa pine, about 50 m high /

Though they were well off the packed road, the wind swept this ridge clear, keeping the snow cover shallow. Guya pulled the sleigh to a stop just outside the tree ring. The sky was dark blue above, not yet truly dark, but in the thin cold air, the first of the huge stars were already visible.

"I packed charcoal to make us a hot dinner," Guya said. "We could add some wood for light if you'd like. Time to break out the warmer coats and hats, though."

The men clambered out of the sleigh. Yuuri and Wolfram hopped and swung their arms to get their blood moving again, then set to tending the sleigh animals, who looked to Yuuri like snowshoe-hoofed giant llamas. Wolfram loved their shaggy multi-colored wool coats, and petted them happily. Aldrich and Manfred strolled into the fairy circle, partly to collect branches, but mostly just to visit with the trees.

"They usually spread and take over," murmured Manfred, touching a huge trunk. The lowest branches soared well above their heads. The trees were like giant columns at his height.

"This is all rock," said Aldrich. "I don't know why I planted them here… Just to see what would happen, maybe. Whether they could wrest themselves a place even in stone." _I planted them where I wouldn't ever go with Franklin. But they belonged here in Trondheim, with him. And this place… Just feels holy somehow._ He didn't so much keep this from Manfred, as just… not feel like saying it right now. He walked among the trees, touching their trunks and saying hello. Manfred let him be, and gathered wood and pinecones for a cheery warm fire.

Guya got the cooking charcoal started first, then dug into the packs for warmer clothes for the plummeting temperatures of the mountain night. In the process, Morgif came unraveled from his muffling.

"Ahhh-WOOH-HOO-HOO!" he crowed. Morgif always loved a pretty girl.

Now a normal girl in Shin Makoku, already far bolder than your average girl in Japan, would have leapt backward in shock. But this wasn't Shin Makoku, and Guya'k'vriel wasn't a normal girl even in Trondheim. She was top elven aide, troubleshooter, and spy to Lord Trondheim. And _Franklin_, not Erick, had elevated her to that position. Not _because_ she was his son's lover, but in _spite_ of it.

_Guya's_ reflex was to draw her wicked long knife and leap _into_ the sleigh. "Who goes there! Show yourself, or die, intruder!" she cried.

"Ah!" cried Yuuri. "No, wait, Guya! That's my… sword, haha!" Yuuri ran to the sleigh and drew out Morgif.

"Ah-woot-woot-WOO-HOO!" Morgif commented, able to see Guya all the better now. He _very_ much approved of the sexy elf chick, in skin-tight gleaming dark be-buckled leathers, body plainly muscle-buffed inside, a few wisps of green hair mingling with the white fur edge of her pointed green leather hat. "Ooh-hooh!!!"

"Shut up, Morgif," said Yuuri. "Ah, he's… pleased to meet you. Guya, this is Morgif. My sword. He, ah, likes pretty girls, haha."

Guya sheathed her blade, and unlike nearly anyone else, leaned closer, face just a few inches from Morgif's. "You're not terribly good looking, are you, Morgif?" she said. She pulled back and looked him over, critically. "Well. That's a… demon sword alright. Sire, have you considered fine elven steel? It's a whole lot prettier. I could put you in touch with a master swordsmith in Trond Hall if you'd like."

"Ow-wooh," said Morgif dejectedly.

"Ah, he's got… special Maou powers," explained Yuuri. "Shinou's, er, he's an heirloom, that goes with the job. But yeah… I'd kinda always fancied a hero's blade myself."

Guya looked Yuuri over judiciously. "Elven steel's a lot lighter, Sire. Cuts with the sharp, more than the weight and wielder's strength, if you see what I mean."

"She means you're too big a _wimp_ to swing heavy steel," clarified Wolfram.

"I think I caught that part," said Yuuri, glaring at him.

"Oh, hey, I think I've heard of this blade -" said Guya, artistically alighting from the sleigh, like a gymnast on a vaulting pommel horse.

But her thought was interrupted by a hail from Manfred. They turned to look toward the trees. By now, night had fully fallen. The sky above was fully carpeted with impossibly many stars, huge and close enough to touch, shining forth from a field of velvet black. And with the night, a group of ghosts had appeared in the fairy circle. Aldrich stood farther away, mesmerized, Manfred nearer the group from the sleigh, beckoning them to come closer.

Yuuri had seen light wolves in Shin Makoku before. It was an occasion for women and grown men to flee in terror, the bravest drawing swords.

But in this, Yuuri's strangeling domain of Trondheim, Guya cried, "_Oh!_ They're _adorable!_" and started walking slowly toward the trees, face caught in wide-eyed delight, as though not to scare away the wild creatures. The ghosts, however, weren't one bit skittish around people. They were cavorting around the circle.

Yuuri and Wolfram traded looks, swallowed, and followed her. And as their nervousness relaxed, they could see what she meant. There was a small, bright, almost feline light wolf, the sort that had attacked Guya the night before, plus about a dozen much smaller, and even brighter, little light wolf cubs. "Yuuri, they're… beautiful," whispered Wolfram. "They're not crying in anguish, like the ones at Trond Hall. They're… playing." They walked toward the circle like sleepwalkers, beholding a great wonder.

And as they approached, Morgif said, "Oooh! YUM!" And he did open his mouth wide, and did suck all the ghosts into his mouth. And he swallowed.

"Ah! Morgif!" cried Yuuri, astonished.

"What have you _done!?_" yelled Aldrich, heading for them at a run.

"Give them **_back_**, right **_now_**, you _wretched_ hunk of_ rust!_" screamed Guya. Without thinking, and before Yuuri could do more than let his mouth fall open, Guya dove for Morgif. Both her hands grabbed, to throttle the monstrous sword at the hilt. "Spit them _out!_ Right _NOW!_"

But no one except Yuuri should ever touch Morgif. Guya's hands were still bare, mitts thrust into her belt while she built the cookfire and sifted the luggage. When she touched Morgif's hilt, a blinding white light blasted forth from the joined two. As their eyes adjusted, Aldrich saw a last few little soul spheres drift up and away, into the night branches above. Guya stood frozen, mouth open in mid battle-cry, silvery light seeming to blare out through her pores.

Horrified, Yuuri gently detached Morgif from Guya's frozen grip. Morgif stopped glowing immediately.

Guya took longer. And as she faded, she slowly toppled into the snow.

-oOo-

_Please review?_


	7. Boom Falls Messiah

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**AN:** A reviewer mentioned that story summaries would be helpful, because even someone who's read this whole arc, read parts months ago.

I'm gradually putting detailed summaries on the **homepage** link on my profile. The only one so far is _The Trouble with Trolls_ – a near prequel to _The Ghosts of Trondheim_. If you notice any particular stories that really need a recap, or something I've missed in that summary, please tell me? My priority guess is _The Pirate Wedding_ next, then _Axel_, then _Yuuri's Hot Date_. Or… would oldest to newest work better?

Or - I'm also toying with the idea of character bios, so readers can look up relationships / biography / stories / illustrations by character name. (Not just OC's – the series characters' lives also develop in these stories.) Any input on whether this would be more useful than story summaries?

**Chapter 7 – Boom Falls Messiah**

Yuuri threw Morgif to the ground, as if the damned sword had bit him again. He knelt in the snow and lifted Guya into his arms. For once, Wolfram was too aghast to be bothered about Yuuri embracing a beautiful girl. Wolfram knelt beside him and used his fire healing gift to check how Guya was doing. She was alive, breathing, but – gone. As Murata was gone. As Yuuri was gone when he went away with the Maou's Mirror. Wolfram looked up at Yuuri, stricken.

It was silly, really. Yuuri was surrounded by three fire healers, each far more talented than he was. But it was Yuuri's sword that ate the sweet little light wolves, who blasted this lovely elf woman unconscious. The little healing Yuuri knew, he formed into a ball of bright blue light, and laid his hand on Guya's heart. It was almost more of a blessing and a prayer, than a healing.

Manfred and then Aldrich joined them, and gazed down in dismay, in each other's arms. Wolfram put his hand over Yuuri's on Guya's breast, and gazed at him gently, in a wordless expression of confidence and love, and shared anguish.

-oOo-

Guya'k'vriel floated in a cloud, in a beam of beautiful moonlight, though she saw no moon. She rose and gazed around dreamily, at the purple, pink, gold clouds.

Yuuri appeared, all demon-eyed, his black hair risen, snaking and glowing with blue power.

Guya didn't find this particularly frightening. Elf-eating mammoths on a rampage, were frightening. Snow bridges collapsing when she was on them, were frightening. And she'd survived these with no lasting effect. Guya simply thought Yuuri's hair looked rather good that way. With his demonic expression upon him, he looked a lot sharper and sexier than in his normal amiability.

Too bad he didn't have fangs, like Erick. Not nearly as well hung as Erick, either, she figured. He was pretty scrawny, actually, not much bigger than she was, and not nearly as muscular. She wondered if Erick would like her hair standing up and snaking with power like that. She'd have to use an elf glamour, of course, an illusion. Her olive hair was fine and flyaway straight. She could never get it to look like Yuuri's. But her elf glamour was first rate. But then, _Erick's_ hair doing what Yuuri's was doing, fangs bared in a sexy smile, _that_ would be… _sweet_…

Yuuri faded and left her.

In his place stood her familiar light wolf. Guya grinned and held out her arms, beckoning the light wolf. The wolf sinously padded over, across the cloud. The wolf put her front paws of light onto Guya's shoulders, licked her face. Guya giggled at the tickling tongue's rasp, and gathered the wolf into an embrace.

But when she hugged the wolf to her, the wolf didn't press on her outside, but hugged right into her. The wolf turned around a few times inside Guya's torso, like a cat circling its tail, deciding which way to lie down. Then she settled in, coiled warm below Guya's navel. It felt like she was purring inside.

Guya wrapped her arms around her middle, as though cradling an unborn child in her womb. It felt so good. She felt so good. She was home. She closed her eyes, reveling in the novel sensation of feeling so good. "Welcome home," she said to herself. Or the light wolf. She didn't know or care. It just seemed the thing to say.

Yuuri appeared again, this time kneeling right beside her, hand on her heart. "Come back to us, Guya'k'vriel," he murmured.

But she disagreed. She was already home. And she'd been gone for ever so long. She never wanted to leave again. "Only if I can bring myself with me," she said. She meant the light wolf. Or not.

"Come home _whole_," Yuuri invited.

She sighed and took his hand.

-oOo-

Yuuri wasn't aware of appearing in Guya's dream, not at any conscious level. He simply had his eyes closed, blessing her, offering her anything he could do.

But Guya's eyes slowly opened. "Aww… Your hair stopped glowing," she said.

"Ah… what?" replied Yuuri. He smoothed her hair, tucking a few wisps under the fur trim of her pointed cap. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I've never felt so good," she said. "I have my wolf back." Her eyes closed of their own accord, and she drifted to sleep.

Concerned about her gibberish, Yuuri said, "Ah, is she OK?"

Wolfram ran a monitoring hand over her, slowed, stopped, perplexed. "Chichiue?" he said, looking up wide-eyed at his father.

Manfred let go of Aldrich and squatted by them. He ran a far more expert hand over the sleeping elf. His hand likewise slowed. "She's better than OK, Yuuri. Aldrich… have you ever felt an elf like this?" Though Manfred was a more experienced healer in general, Aldrich had probably healed elves more often.

Aldrich likewise took a knee in the snow, and checked her over. Strong, clear – she didn't feel like an elf at all. Elves normally felt a little… wan, compared to a demon. They gave an impression of lost waifs, beaten down and hardened to the world. But Guya felt stronger than a demon, bright and true, with a silvery musical tang to her somehow, that he'd never felt in anyone before. Aldrich shook his head slowly. "No, not like an elf at all. Strange. But… strong. I think she'll be alright."

Aldrich easily picked her up in his arms, and carried her to the sleigh to tuck into the pile of furs. They took turns watching her, though indeed it seemed there was nothing to watch but healthy slumber. They finished their meal. Aldrich took the reins, Manfred beside him, and the sleigh sped away over the shoulders of dark snowy mountains, under bright stars, toward Boom Falls.

-oOo-

"Wait," said Murata to Franklin and a centaur. At the moment they were reviewing the centaur's memory of becoming a puppet to Soushu, four millenia ago. He turned to the centaur and bowed. "Thank you, that was very helpful. Franklin, please take me back to your memory again, of the day Soushu got you."

Though little "present" time had passed, Murata had spent what felt like months, reviewing the memories of horrors. They spent "present" time only to find another ghost to interview, or when Franklin responded to a ghost summons by a shaman calling him by name. The latter was frequent. They'd been yanked off task for Franklin to visit with his brother Ted at Royal Gorge, Alana at Trond Hall twice, three shamans at the Escarpment, once for Tanya Troll Mother, plus other scattered supplicants who meant nothing to Murata. Franklin was a popular ghost.

The centaur vanished, and they were back at Old Trond Hall, a stone edifice whose ruins lay in what was now the troll reservation, well to the east of modern Trond Hall. The castle ramparts grew outward from large ancestral caverns.

King Vladimir had left others to guard the ramparts. He sat mounted on a small mammoth, leading a cavalry flank awaiting the horde of Soushu's puppets. That opposing army was seemingly endless, as its zombie warriors swarmed over mountain ridges like locusts, toward Old Trond Hall. Vlad didn't wait idly. He and his forces unleashed earth attack after earth attack. The mountains swayed. Avalanches and rock slides crushed the invading puppets by the thousands, by the _tens_ of thousands. Scalding geysers erupted from fissures in the earth. Other fissures opened and swallowed men, closing over them again. A volcano was ripped open – more thousands of puppets would never left these mountains to trouble Shinou's army on the plains.

Dragons flew, incinerating thousands. Trond demons, Trond goblins, Trond elves, all unleashed attacks.

_We never knew,_ thought Murata, awed all over again. _Shinou and Daikenja never knew the debt we owed to King Vladimir and his armies, for breaking the back of Soushu's armies. What we faced in the final battlefields north of Blood Pledge Castle, wasn't a quarter of what Vladimir faced here, outnumbered a hundred to one. There was no hope, not a prayer of success here. Yet they willingly paid with their lives, trusting that their sacrifice would give hope in a future battle which they'd never live to see, to aid others they would never know. Oh, my people… how we wronged the trolls! For our plans were too weak. Shinou could not have prevailed, had not these… people… these brave Mazoku of other races… had they not broken this enemy army first._

"Freeze here," breathed Murata. "Franklin, can we get closer, to that haze of lights over there?"

"No," said Franklin. "As we go farther from this spot, the image just degrades. I never saw it any closer. But the haze of lights, is souls departing."

"Yes, but, your army's? Or Soushu's?" asked Murata. "Or both?"

Franklin studied the field carefully for long minutes. "All mine," he concluded. He pointed to a dark swath, untouched by the haze of departing soul lights. "I have no forces there – watch this." He let the memory unfold again for just a few minutes. King Vladimir of old unleashed a great fissure in the earth. A dragon incinerated the advancing enemy into the fissure from one side. A barrage of elven arrows knocked puppet soldiers in from the other side. The fissure closed, carrying hundreds to a certain end. He froze the scene again. "No soul lights," he pointed out. "Those were humans once – from Dai Cimmaron."

"Franklin, I am so, so sorry…" Murata breathed.

"Don't be. There's no need to keep apologizing, Murata. And these souls you see flying away – they were the lucky ones. They died gloriously. They're not among the ghosts we seek to free. And the rest of us… We had no choice. There was death fighting, or death in that horror anyway. We could only die trying to make a difference."

Murata disagreed. Most cowered and wailed, when faced with such a pitiless fate as this. The trolls and their allies _had_ a choice. They chose to die trying, and those deaths had _not_ been in vain. Soushu _was_ defeated, and it _was_ thanks to them.

"I hate to ask this again, friend," said Murata. There was no sarcasm, no banter possible in the face of this memory of disaster. He and his captor had become allies, friends of a sort, united in their quest. "I want to see the onslaught of Soushu's spell, in infinitely slow motion. Not when it hit _you_ this time, but when it hit the first solid wave of your people. I know it's torture for you to keep reliving this –"

"No," said Franklin. "I'll relive it for all eternity if I have to. I _must_ redeem it."

The scene played up to the instant when a dark, roiling purple-black cloud struck the vanguard of ancient Trondheim's forces, and stopped. "The tiniest possible step forward in time," whispered Murata. He studied the scene for a long minute. "And again." Three more steps, and he saw it. A white ragged wall of flame angled up from a group of elven archers, sucked into the noisome power cloud of Soushu. Yet a second wave of dim soul light spheres angled away from the cloud.

He finally saw it.

"They were split in two," he breathed. "Franklin, that's it! Soushu split the souls in _two!_" Murata fell to his knees, emotionally overcome, and hung his head. "We didn't do it. _I_ didn't do it. Soushu did."

And Murata cried. He'd no idea how heavy the burden of his guilt lay, until now, when he saw that it wasn't his, all along.

Franklin gave him space to cry, and didn't comment. Whose fault this was, was really never the question. Nor even what was done.

How to _undo_ it, was the only question that mattered.

And as Murata finished his cry, he realized that. And not only that. While it was true that he and Shinou had not made these few hundreds of brave trolls into ghosts, not directly, they had indeed genocided the survivors. And seconds later, Soushu had split _their_ souls asunder, as well.

-oOo-

Wolfram and Yuuri gently roused Guya, as the sleigh started up the final slope to Boom Falls. The Falls themselves rose above the town's hall, a frozen cascade down a sheer cliff, hundreds of feet tall, its frozen waterfall gleaming in the light of the newly risen three-quarter moon. Below, a placid river flowed between deep banks. It carried dinner-plate sized ice floes, bearing frost flowers – tufts of ice crystals like clumps of white grass.

Acrobatic Guya stretched luxuriantly, in ways that Yuuri doubted his body could ever bend. "Mm, I feel so _good_… Oh! We're here!" She pirouetted into the front seat on the strength of one delicate wrist, folding herself back down with perfect controlled grace. "I'm so sorry, Lord Aldrich, to make you do the driving!"

"Not at all! We're just glad you're alright." Yet Aldrich peered at her in question. "Are you? Alright? Really?"

"Mm-hmm, never been better!" professed Guya. She hooked back the reins away from Aldrich by wrapping a line around a pointed toe and drawing it into her hands.

Aldrich watched the play of rippling muscle and athletic grace a little too closely – Manfred jabbed him with an elbow. Aldrich grinned at him and shrugged. _We didn't say we wouldn't look, just that we wouldn't touch._

"Me drive," asserted Guya. "Oh, we didn't talk about plans for when we reach Boom Falls. So, how about you guys check in and set about your _'honeymoon' _ business, and I'll handle Raisa. I could leave notes with the innkeeper to update you on progress, if I haven't run into you around town. And you just… enjoy yourselves." She grinned.

Manfred peered around Aldrich's shoulder. "Guya… You're really alright? You were hit with a blast from a demon sword. Do you feel… different?"

"_Oh,_ yeah!" said Guya. "I feel _great!_"

With a few motions and looks, Aldrich requested Manfred move to the back and leave him alone with Guya. Manfred glowered at him, but did it anyway.

"Guya," Aldrich said softly, "there are meetings here, you know? I realize you don't drink when you're working, but… It's kind of like insurance, building up the ability to not drink when you're not working. Would you consider finding out the schedule, when and where they're held? And let me know?"

"I've never wanted a drink less in my life, Lord Aldrich," she said. And it was true. All her life she'd drunk to feel good, yet hadn't reached feeling nearly as good as she did right now. Drinking would be a dreadful step _down_ from here. "But I'll let you know. Hell, I'll even promise to go. Yeah, I'd like to talk about it, sure." She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

She dropped them off at the resort reception door, and left to stable the sleigh and animals.

Yuuri asked the group, "Is that really… alright?"

The group was skeptical on that point, but decided to wait and see. And in the meantime, do that honeymoon thing they'd planned. The couples ardently agreed to avoid each other for at least 36 hours, and split to their separate luxury suites.

-oOo-

Boom Falls was rare among Trondheim halls, completely agnostic regarding diurnal or nocturnal. The resort was a section of several upper floors. The innkeeper asked whether they preferred light or dark, as casually as he might ask if they wanted one bed or two.

Yuuri and Wolfram's room was 'light', of course, fully supplied with oil lamps and a very generous allotment of the usual troll hall heating braziers. Wolfram lit all these to maximum burn with a flick of the wrist, though the room wasn't especially cold. There was a huge picture window facing the scenic Falls. Fortunately, the window even started at somewhat above waist height, and they were several floors up. It would have been a shame to close the draperies over that stunning view, just for modesty.

Yuuri stood at the window, just gazing out. But as he gazed, his thoughts naturally tumulted into current concerns. Erick's transport and refugee and public health challenges. Murata's mission to save the ghosts. Guya's strange recuperation. Whether Morgif really killed the little ghost cubs. What would it mean, anyway, to kill a baby ghost?

Wolfram stole up behind him and ran his hands up Yuuri's sides, starting from the edges of his thighs, trailing light fingers up the tight leather pants, stealing under the heavy winter sweater and dragging it upwards. "Perhaps you could stop worrying, and slip into something more comfortable. _Wimp. _We're finally alone, you know."

Yuuri smiled, and teased, "Well, we were alone just yesterday afternoon. And made love in a unicorn tank as I recall. We don't have to make love_ every_ day, do we? Slave driver."

"Do you have a death wish?" Wolfram pulled Yuuri's sweater up over his face, and left his arms tangled there. He turned Yuuri to face him and kissed his bellybutton. "You're wearing too many clothes." He started unlacing Yuuri's leather pants.

Yuuri finally pulled off his own sweater and silk long underwear top. Then he stood entranced. He hadn't expected Wolfram to wear this for their honeymoon – a girl's summer cotton yukata, printed with multiple shades of pink and white peonies, limned in gold.

"Well, am I wearing it correctly?" Wolfram inquired, with a shy half-smile. He turned, arms held out.

"Perfectly," agreed Yuuri. 

"There's one for you, too," Wolfram offered, drawing him to the vast bed with a finger hooked in his pants lacing. Yuuri's yukata was black, of course, with silvery tracings of a willow tree motif. "Are these… OK? Maybe I should have gone for something sexier. But I was thinking –"

Yuuri cut him off with a kiss, and then a deeper kiss. "These are perfect. You are perfect. I love you. And we're way overdue for that honeymoon thing, aren't we…"

-oOo-

The troll-demon scholar Raisa was delighted with Guya's commission. She set to it with a will. She'd been doing maintenance on the Vladimir diaries. Parchment doesn't last 4,000 years – the diaries had long since been engraved onto plates, to be reprinted every few centuries. She put away the plates and eagerly finished re-reading the diary quickly, before going back to construct the timeline.

But these last pages couldn't be read quickly. Her eyes teared up so.

_3.24.Vlad.317_

_Oh, Natasha, how I miss you, as the end draws near. I was a fool, to hold you back, just because Tanya is expecting. You were right - you should have gone to Bielenfeld months ago. Now, even if Bielenfeld would stand with us, it's too late. _

_I'm glad you're away. I'm glad Tanya is hidden away too. But oh, my love… it's hard to accept that I die alone, not to see your lovely faces once more, never to see my grandson. _

_This is selfish, but I wish you were here, to die with me and be reborn together as lovers. But it is better that you live, mayhap even win, for Tanya's sake. And even if not as lovers, two who love as we do, shall surely meet again, as parent and child, brother and sister, or even good friends. Until then, my dearest Natasha. Blessed be._

-oOo-

Guya found her meeting up in the rafters of Boom Falls hall, in the ghost ceremony chamber. Here, they began the meeting by summoning the ghosts. Many elves elected to wait outside, but she loved it.

Except they weren't ghosts. They were light wolves. Which weren't the same thing at all. She raised her hand and spoke first, when the meeting got underway. She was eager to set people straight about that.

"My name is Guya'k'vriel. I'm top elven troubleshooter to Her Majesty Lady Alana and Erick Lord Trondheim, who is also my lover." Many women at the meeting started murmuring. They needed to catch her afterwards and explain what wasn't and wasn't appropriate to say here.

Guya continued, "I met a miracle today on the road from Trond Hall. The desire to drink has left me completely. And it is thanks to those ghosts who just visited, who are not ghosts at all." There was considerable shuffling and coughing amongst the troll in the group. Guya smiled and met many of them in the eye, confident and strong and radiantly happy. This was disconcerting in itself, coming from an elf. "You don't believe me. Then hear my tale."

She told them how the Bedamned Great Sage was soul-knapped from Lady Alana's dining room. How she, suffering withdrawal and pining for Erick, had joined the next summoning of the ghosts. How she was taken by a light wolf last night to the late Franklin Lord Trondheim and the Bedamned Great Sage. They had explained their quest, to redeem the Great Genocide and free the ghosts of Trondheim for rebirth. But that it was _her_ light wolf who held her – it was not a ghost! How could it be? She was alive!

Several of the audience were getting seriously angry. Their neighbors shushed them, eager to hear the rest of this outrageous young elf's story. One walked out in a huff.

Others knew Guya – she was well-known throughout Trondheim as a trouble-shooter, though less conspicous when spying under a glamour. They knew that a lie would choke her, knew her reckless and drunken ways off-duty. They knew that the woman who sat before them today was… changed.

Guya told them of driving the Maou and Aldrich von Trondheim Lord Bielenfeld, and their husbands, to the Fairy Circle. How a beautiful light wolf was there, with a flock of small light wolves. How the Maou's evil demon sword Morgif, blade of Accursed Shinou the Genocide himself, had swallowed them all! How she'd strangled the rotten blade to get them back, and was blasted unconscious. How the Maou came to her in a world of soft cloud, and brought her light wolf. How in reuniting with her light wolf, she'd become a new person. How she'd spent her entire life seeking thrill after sex after drink, never knowing what she was searching _for_, until she found it by strangling a really ugly sword by the fairy wood. But the best of the thrills, the sex, the drink, had never come anywhere near the real thing. What she'd been searching for was a part of her that was missing – her light wolf. And somehow the Maou had reunited them. And no, she would never drink again, for it would feel _bad_ compared to this joy.

"Granted, I'm eager to try the thrills again sober. And I'm sure Erick and I can find some way to make the sex _even better_," Guya said with a smile, to surprised chuckles from the audience. "But, oh, I can't wait to go home and tell him! Thanks for listening."

The room was silent. Eventually one elf woman, rather destitute looking, raised a hand. "May I ask, Lady Guya'k'vriel… is the Maou still _here?_ Could he do it _again?_ Could he save _me?_"

The room broke out in murmuring. Guya belatedly realized she shouldn't have said any of this in public, not yet. She just had to tell someone. But the men were here on honeymoon, so… She'd just told a very inappropriate group of people.

"Ah…" she said. "The Maou is here on vacation. Not… working. I don't know if he can do it again. Yet. But this is part of the quest I spoke of. The ghost of Lord Franklin is guiding the Bedamned Great Sage. So… hopefully you'll hear news soon, of what solutions they find for the ghosts. The light wolves. My experience today was… just a clue in that greater quest."

Further questions in the same vein, she deflected the same way. No, there is no general solution yet. Be patient. Be hopeful.

The meeting wrapped up. The soft murmuring turned into a roar as the attendees filed out of the ghost hall. Several of the highest ranked members – a transit cop, the visiting mayor of a small hall, some prominent business and crafts people and shamans – gathered around Guya. They firmly explained to her the proper etiquette at meetings, that she should never name any person outside the room. She apologized humbly. Then spent the next hour or two with them, speaking of the experience in greater depth. And possibly for the first time in her life, Guya became deeply involved in a religious debate. What could it all mean? What were the light wolves, if not the ghosts of their ancestors?

-oOo-

**_BOOM!_**

Manfred sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, terrified out of his sleep by the jaw-rattling boom. His movement dragged the covers off Aldrich, who yanked them back.

After a few deep breaths to calm himself, Manfred said, "I don't know how people live with that."

"I kinda like it," said Aldrich, yawning. "Oh, hey, we have a view." He grabbed a blanket and draped it toga-style, then opened the curtains. Searing late-morning light reflected into the room, off the ice-bound Boom Falls.

**_BOOM!_**

Manfred unwrapped Aldrich from his toga-blanket and snuck into it with him. "Ooh, we can see the base from here. Maybe I should have mentioned this to Wolfram."

"Surely he's heard of Boom Falls before," said Aldrich.

**_GROAN!_**

"Well, there's a fence and signs, anyway," continued Aldrich. "Though… Hm. Maybe the signs are in Trondish."

**_CRASH!_**

The entire waterfall's worth of ice crashed down to its base, freeing the waterfall to flow again, for a few brief hours in the mid-day sun. Aldrich grinned broadly, an infectious smile Manfred caught from him. "I love these falls," said Aldrich. "Sleepy?"

"Wide awake, now," said Manfred. "What shall we do today?"

"We should probably ski," Aldrich said, without notable enthusiasm.

"Do you want to ski? It's been over a century, for both of us."

"We would fall and break bones. Good thing we're both fire healers."

"Doesn't sound very appealing, when you put it that way," said Manfred.

"True. Let's go sledding instead. Later." Aldrich smiled warmly and kissed his husband gently. "Or did you have another agenda?"

"I do. In fact," said Manfred, tracing his husband's face with a finger, really _looking_ at him, at the changes wrought by time. When they became lovers, when Wolfram was only five years old, Aldrich had still been a young man. He'd since grown into the mature prime of a demon. Hesitantly, Manfred said, "I wanted to check in with you. We're both so busy, have such rich lives. It's so rare that we just sit still and… _be_ together. Take stock. Where we've been, where we're going… That baby boy of mine you helped me raise, is down the hall married himself now."

"Wolfram turned out well," offered Aldrich.

"Yeah, he's alright," said Manfred, then flashed Aldrich an evil green-eyed demon smile. "By the way, was this what you had in mind for their punishment? A working honeymoon?"

Aldrich didn't deny it, grinning back. "It'll do. I_ had_ wanted to drag Yuuri up here for a state visit anyway. And it _was_ pretty crass of them, getting married without you and Efram, or Yuuri's parents either, and not even holding a reception. Clods."

"Or you," suggested Manfred. "You deserved an invitation, too."

"Eh. Just another adult along the road," Aldrich sighed. "You wouldn't expect special consideration from Conrad or Gwendal."

"No. I do hope to earn it from Dietrich, though. And I'd expect it from Efram to you. For what it's worth, I think Wolfram and Yuuri eloped like that because their weddings were such national disasters. Yuuri apologized to me. I don't think he knows how big a part you played in raising Wolfram. Or he would've apologized to you, too."

Aldrich nodded. Actually that did make him feel better. He tenderly touched the pouch at his neck, containing many tree seeds, and the two special seeds that he'd plant in spring, to grow his and Manfred's children. "Think we can be fair about it – yours, mine, and ours?"

"_I_ think," Manfred said decisively, "that's the least important thing about them – yours, mine, or ours. All along, I think we've both loved each of them as much as we can, just as they are, given each what they needed from us. Which was different for each of them. Right?"

"Right," said Aldrich, with a smile.

The newly wed, but long-time lovers, ended up spending the whole day talking, in their room or in the restaurant. They were unaware of what the others in their party were up to. Until the innkeeper banged on their door shortly after nightfall.

"I'm so sorry to intrude, Lord Aldrich," he said. "But… there's a mob outside. After the Maou. Could you…?"

"A _mob?_" repeated Aldrich. "We'll be right there."

-oOo-

Yuuri and Wolfram had awoken to the boom of Boom Falls, too, of course. They'd ventured out and decided neither of them was much good at skiing. They came in for a long lunch and love-making session, then headed up the mountain again for some sledding. As night fell, they decided to take one last trip down the long luge track under the starlight.

"_Whoo!_ That was fun, Yuuri!" cried Wolfram, as they splashed into deep snow to stop at the bottom. He turned to hug Yuuri tight and wrestle him into the snow. "Let's do this again tomorrow."

"Deal!" said Yuuri, matching him grin for grin. They didn't often take time to play together like this, just the two of them. He treasured every minute. He pulled Wolfram up into a hug. Then they returned their sled, and trudged toward the slight glow of the hall through the dark. Naturally, the Tronds didn't light the playgrounds.

"Say, Yuuri, what's that in front of the hall?" said Wolfram, pointing to a pool of dark on the less-dark snow.

As they walked closer, they gradually realized it was a crowd. No one had mentioned anything, so they assumed it had nothing to do with them. Until the crowd recognized them.

"_Maou! Maou! Maou!_" the crowd began to chant. There was a brief surge towards them, immediately squelched by blinding blue-orange flame blasts, barked orders, and cops and high-troll women patrolling the periphery. Using the broad front porch and stairs of the hall as a stage of sorts, Aldrich appeared to be presiding over the… ceremony?

Manfred and Guya ran up to escort them to the porch-stage. Guya quickly handed them their swords – Morgif safely in a bag – and explained. "I spoke too carelessly last night, Sire. My apologies. I believe the crowd wants you to do to them, what you did to me yesterday."

"What – nearly kill you?" asked Yuuri.

"You saved my life, Sire," said Guya, with deep conviction. "You made me whole again. The urge to drink has been lifted from me completely."

"Ah! Well… good for you!" encouraged Yuuri, still at a loss. Yuuri didn't know Guya had a drinking problem, though Aldrich had confided his own.

"The mob won't go away until you speak to them," clarified Manfred. "In fact, I think it's going to keep growing, now that the sun's down."

"Are you saying these people are all alcoholics?" asked Wolfram. "Who think Yuuri can cure them of being alcoholics?"

"Exactly!" beamed Guya. "Just do for them what you did for me, Sire."

Yuuri smiled back wanly and mounted the stairs, to stand by Aldrich. Wolfram and Manfred and Guya spread out to help reinforce the guards at the front of the porch. Yuuri waved to the crowd, who were chanting his name. He said in an aside, through his professional kingly smile, "Aldrich, I have no idea how to cure an alcoholic."

Wielding his own professional smile, Aldrich replied, "Neither does anyone else. Although I must say, I'm… as curious as the rest, what you can do. Sire."

Unfortunately, the crowd began settling down, the better to hear the man speak. "Suggestions, Lord Aldrich?" Yuuri begged, still waving.

"Well, I could call some ghosts and you could let Morgif eat them, and then… Maybe this time _I_ could strangle the sword for you." Yuuri looked at him in horror. Aldrich shrugged. "You could ask for a spokesman and… talk. Sire."

Yuuri nodded thanks and stepped forward. "Fellow citizens of Shin Makoku! Friends!" They cheered. "I'm told you have a request of me. Do you have a spokesman?"

Yuuri expected some large troll to step forward and speak with authority. Instead, a poorly clad young elf woman, clearly ill and pregnant, stepped forward. "I… I was here first. Sire." She prostrated herself on the snow. The crowd did the same. Several of the guards on the periphery did likewise – Aldrich had drafted them out of the mob.

"Please, Sire," the desperate girl continued, "I can't stop drinking. I know it will hurt my baby, but… Please, Sire. Make me whole like you did to Lady Guya'k'vriel, so I won't want to drink anymore. Not for my sake, but for my baby's. Sire, I beg you!"

Yuuri was stunned. He walked down the steps. He raised the poor girl out of the snow, and embraced her. Then led her back up the stairs with him, still held in his arm. "I don't know how to do this thing," he announced. "Something happened to Guya yesterday by accident. We have a clue, but not a cure. If I did what we did last night, I would be experimenting with your lives. I cannot do that. I might hurt you."

"I volunteer for the experiment!" yelled someone in the crowd. The call spread like wildfire.

"Sire," said Aldrich urgently. "If you agree to the experiment, require the crowd to disperse _first_. Then only those who are sure they want to volunteer, return tomorrow evening. Force them to cool their heads first! And experiment on ten, not two hundred."

"With respect, Lord," said the pregnant elf, still in Yuuri's arm. "If you do that, tomorrow there will be two thousand, not two hundred. You're my only hope. Please try on me, Sire. Here and now?" 

Rational arguments fled, and a calm descended on Yuuri. He didn't notice, but his hair rose, and blue arcs of power played about him, as his Maou mode stole upon him.

"If any would escape this experiment, please leave now," Yuuri said, in a quiet tone, which nevertheless spoke to each person loud and clear. "Aldrich von Trondheim Lord Bielenfeld. Please summon the ghost of this woman."

-oOo-

_Sniff. Still not enough reviews happening on this story… Maybe I should just drop it._

_Please review?_


	8. Strange Mercies

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 8 – Strange Mercies**

To Wolfram's horror, Aldrich stepped up to _obey_ Yuuri's order, to summon the ghosts before this mob who demanded the Maou cure them of alcoholism, by _'doing what he did to Guya'_. Wolfram made frantic neck-slicing gestures at Aldrich.

"Stop that, Wolfram," Manfred said quietly. "Aldrich will do as the Maou has asked. Stand ready as a healer, in case anyone is overcome." Guya, also on the makeshift porch stage, had no reservations. She gazed on Aldrich and Yuuri with eyes shining and confident.

Aldrich strode forward to the edge of the steps, and called out, "Any who are unsure that they should be here – raise your hands. I call on the group to help them leave quickly." No hands were raised. No one wished to leave. "So be it. _Shamshesh alte'in…_" He recited the words to summon the ghosts. There wasn't any way to summon _only_ the ghost of the elf woman huddled in Yuuri's arm – he called for her, but whoever came, came.

He also explicitly called Franklin.

The ghosts' response came quickly. Several hundred ghosts descended on the crowd, most seeming to attack a person, latch onto him. Others swirled overhead. Two wolves came directly for Aldrich, large but dim. One sat by his side. The other clambered onto his back and hung on.

Standing still, Aldrich bowed his head and prompted Yuuri, "The ghosts are summoned, my liege." _Do whatever you're going to do._

Yuuri pulled out Morgif, and told him sternly that he would eat the ghosts, but then spit them right back out again, without touching anyone. Yuuri backed up so his swing would not hit anyone, and swung Morgif around in slow swoops. With each swoop of the blade, Morgif sucked more light wolves in. Many in the crowd cried out in anguish as their wolves left them. The unattached light wolves got sucked in, too.

When not a single light wolf was left, Yuuri ordered the sword to set them free again. He held up the sword's ugly face to the crowd like a crucifix. And Morgif popped out perfect round soul spheres, of different brightnesses, like he was blowing smoke rings toward the crowd. The spheres drifted to people and hovered before them, at about chest height. None came to Yuuri or Wolfram, Manfred or Guya. But a very dim sphere did take station in front of Aldrich, seemingly the sphere form of the large but faint wolf who'd been on his back. The sphere in front of the pregnant elf woman was bright, as her light wolf had been.

There was a pause in Morgif's bubble blowing. Yuuri took a step back, lowered his arms and head, seemed to marshall something within him. Then he held Morgif higher in the air, and _much_ brighter spheres emerged, bright enough that nocturnal Tronds gasped and hid their eyes. A gleaming gold sphere, a sapphire, then three especially large and brilliant green ones. Wolfram and Manfred and Aldrich's eyes were glued to these. A green sphere touched each of the three on the nose briefly, then flew away into the night. Last were some smaller shining silver spheres, still far brighter than any that stood before people. Most of these lingered above the crowd. But one took station next to Aldrich's waist, just where his second light wolf's eyes had been, though the sphere was much brighter than the dim wolf had been.

At last Yuuri lowered his arms and thrust Morgif into his scabbard. He walked to the pregnant elf, touched her arm, and asked gently, "Would you take it?"

She bit her lip, nodded bravely, and put her hand out to the sphere, as though to pluck it to her. As she touched it, her eyes widened, and she needed no further instructions. She brought her sphere to her heart, and crumpled to her knees.

"Do as she has done," Yuuri said to the crowd. "The sphere that is before you is a piece of you. You have only to reach out and reclaim it." And the crowd did so, most falling to their knees as the elf woman had.

Aldrich staggered and sat down on the porch step after taking in his sphere. The brilliant sphere by his side came and touched him on the nose, and he watched it fly up, with a smile, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Good-bye, Lin," he breathed. "You're not a ghost anymore."

"It is complete," proclaimed the Maou. The blue flames died in Yuuri's hair, which fell back to rest on his shoulders. He was saved from further concern about the crowd, by simply passing out on the porch.

-oOo-

Wolfram rushed to Yuuri's side, and started to drag him back to their room. But a troll shaman, well over seven feet tall, said, "Please, sir. Allow me the honor." She picked Yuuri up with ease, and bore him indoors.

Wolfram made to follow, but his father said, "Wolfram. You're needed here." Manfred was tending the pregnant elf. Guya was already wading into the crowd to see who else needed help.

Aldrich pulled himself together. Manfred said, "Aldrich, there are a couple hundred people here to triage. Could you and Wolfram see to that? I'll work here. Use bystanders to bring me people who need attention – giving them something to do will help them re-orient."

Aldrich snorted softly. "Like me? Too disoriented to heal yet?"

"You know these people's souls, my liege. You can help more people, more quickly, on triage." The _'my liege'_ was a dismissal – Manfred was working, doing his duty, and suggested Aldrich do the same.

Wolfram took the hint. He helped about twenty people get up out of the snow and walk around a bit, who didn't need much more than that to reintegrate. Then he found an older man, elf-demon by his looks, who wasn't rousing, seemed _'gone'_ as Guya had been. He propped the man half-sitting against his chest, and used the simplest form of healing spell, as Yuuri had on Guya. Wolfram gently but insistently called the man back. After a few minutes, the half-elf roused and babbled in Trondish a bit, then fell asleep in Wolfram's arms.

By now, many of the less-stricken had pulled themselves together, and more or less self-organized. They seemed reluctant to quit the field until they'd each helped another. Wolfram beckoned to a couple of these. "This man is alright, but needs a warm place to sleep. Could I ask you to take charge of him, until he wakes? Or until he's safe with family or friends?"

Another woman – a demon – stepped forward. "I know his family. If you two could carry him for me?" The foursome wandered off.

Other crowd members carried another _'gone'_ to Wolfram's attention. Glancing up, he saw that Aldrich and Guya were still doing triage, but there was a line waiting for Manfred, so he decided handling simple _'gone'_ sufferers was probably best, leaving those with other health concerns to his father. He asked the bearers to bring his next patient to the porch, and told Manfred his plan. Manfred absently said, "Sounds good," and directed a nearby traffic cop to divide the line accordingly. Wolfram bent to calling another wandering soul home.

Next time Wolfram was aware of anything but his line of patients, Aldrich was talking to Manfred. "Guya's packing the sleigh. We need to get Yuuri back to Trond Hall. We can't protect him here anymore."

"Understood. Leave without me if you have to," said Manfred. "But Aldrich… shouldn't you be speaking to the shamans and local authorities about restoring order?"

"I could do that," offered Wolfram.

Aldrich sighed. "I don't think so, Wolfram. But thank you. Dammit, Manfred, I can't leave here without you."

"Then get _busy_ with the authorities," replied Manfred sharply. "Because I won't leave unless these people are in good hands." A man, third from the front of Manfred's waiting line, went into hysterics, screaming that he couldn't bear his past and had to end it. "This man needs friends here!" he barked to the bystanders, and hurried to calm the hysterical man out of turn, with volunteer assistants, before he could set off anyone else who was on the brink.

Aldrich nodded to his husband's back. He paused a moment to clasp Wolfram's shoulder and murmur, "Good work, Wolfram," and hurried into the hall.

Wolfram turned to the next in his line with a reassuring smile. He apologized for getting distracted and making them wait. They brought him the next soul to be called home. A few patients later, he took a short breather, and noticed that only a third of the original crowd remained, but many goblins had been added. Goblins weren't terribly bright, perhaps, but these simple souls were very kind, and exceptionally good listeners.

-oOo-

Murata kept silent while Franklin watched the proceedings at Boom Falls, summoned there by Aldrich. But when Franklin was swallowed by Morgif, Murata suddenly found himself catapulted back to his body, in the dark dining room at Trond Hall. Unable to see well enough to go anywhere, he called out. A demon looked in, ducked out again, then returned with Murata's prescription glasses and some nightglasses, and a glass of water.

"My name's Jessup, Great Sage," he murmured reassuringly, helping Murata to some water. "I've summoned the great healer, Friedrich von Bielenfeld, Lady Alana's husband. He should be here soon. Let's take it easy until he can check you over, hm?"

"Yes, thank you, Jessup. Please call me Murata." Then after a moment he said, "But I should speak to Lord Trondheim, as soon as possible. There's something going on in Boom Falls that he should know about."

"I'm Lord Erick's day lieutenant, and demon troubleshooter," Jessup said, to Murata's surprise. He'd assumed the modest older man was a servant, not the demon counterpart to Hasgrud and Guya. Apparently Jessup was the senior of Erick's top staff. "My Lord Erick will be up for breakfast in an hour. To wake him earlier, you'd need to explain to me first, Great – er, Murata-san."

Murata described what was happening in Boom Falls up to the time he so abruptly left, when Franklin and his light wolf were sucked into Morgif.

Jessup listened intently. When Murata finished, he nodded slowly. "Yes, I had a messenger some hours ago from Boom Falls, reporting Guya's…,"_ indiscretion,_ "story. I suspected that would lead to…" _trouble,_ "further developments. But with respect, sir, whatever's happening there, they'll have to handle on their own. We can't get there fast enough to make any difference. If all's goes well, well enough. If not… Guya's very resourceful – she'll get them back to Trond Hall safely, regardless." Jessup looked at the door with a frown. "But, Murata-san –" Jessup stopped speaking as sounds preceded Friedrich's arrival.

"Well, back are you?" said Friedrich von Bielenfeld. The nearly 800 year old demon master healer and politician, Aldrich's father, pulled up a chair to look Murata over. "Light!" he called in warning, then whooshed alight all the oil lamps in the room.

Jessup eyed the retainers at the door in calculation. "Lord Friedrich… is Lady Alana on her way?" he asked.

"Not until breakfast, I should think," said Friedrich, lifting an eyebrow in question. A quick monitoring hand told him all he needed to know about Murata. He needed to move slowly after lying still so long, but other than that, he was fine.

"Thank you." Jessup addressed the retainers, "Please leave us, and ensure our privacy. Knock when the von Trondheims approach." They left.

"Jessup?" Friedrich asked.

"Yes, I was hoping to speak to you without… upsetting Alana and Erick," said Jessup. Murata-san, I believe you know Erick's aunt, Ilya von Trondheim, a priestess at the temple of Shinou?"

"Ilya is Erick's _aunt?_" asked Murata in surprise. "She doesn't use the von Trondheim name."

"Yes, Ilya is sister to Lord Teodor and the late Lord Franklin, but the family disowned her, for joining Shinou's temple. When they were young, I tutored them in demon history and culture. Ilya became convinced that Shinou's religion held… crucial aspects for Trondheim, as well as the rest of Shin Makoku, especially for demons. She – well. Lord Aldrich and she carry out regular correspondence, he'd be a far better person to explain. But Ilya persuaded me to carry out an experiment. I brought all three of my children to Shinou's temple, to carry out the ritual of the presentation of babies to Shinou. They were no longer babies, and it wasn't the proper day for it. It got politically… ugly. Lady Alana was livid with the temple for mistreating us."

Friedrich sighed and nodded. "Yes, I remember that brouhaha. Though I asked Aldrich to handle it, of course. About a hundred and forty years ago, wasn't it?"

Jessup nodded. "But Ilya did carry out the ritual with us, in spite of the opposition from other priestesses. It was a very moving experience. And since then, my children… They're not like other Trondheim demons."

"How so?" asked Friedrich, intrigued.

"They're more like demons down below, in Shin Makoku. Vivacious, energetic, colorful. In other domains, they call Trond demons pale and lifeless, browbeaten by the trolls, blood too thinned by goblins… Well, they say a lot of ugly things about us. Their mother, my first wife, died of a wasting disease when my children were small. My second wife is also a modest Trond demon. But my kids… My eldest son started an import business with several troll friends, and ended up president over them, almost unheard of here. My second son had the healing gift. I sent him down to the Bielenfeld Institute, not expecting much – most Tronds are very unhappy there. But my son stayed for advanced studies, even taught for a few years, then came home. He's the foremost demon healer in Kriegsbad now. The youngest, my daughter, is an officer under Lord Ted in the Kriegsbad peacekeeping forces. She also commands over trolls and elves."

"Surely you're too modest, Jessup-san," said Murata. "You yourself are, what, the top-ranking demon of all Trondheim?"

"Perhaps now," allowed Jessup. "But back then I was just a family retainer. I took part in the ceremony, too. I was an adult, and my personality fully formed, but…I changed. I became more assertive, went after the things I wanted. I began disagreeing with Franklin's father, arguing my points, asserting my choices. When I felt troll and elf decisions weren't in the best interests of demons or goblins, I confronted them, and won my case. The change in me led to my current position. Lord Trondheim told me so when he promoted me."

"Very interesting," said Friedrich. "Why do you bring this up now?"

"Well, I can't help wondering if these things are related. What Guya described, of taking in her _'light wolf'_, sounds much like what happened to me in Shinou's temple, except it was a faint sphere. And the… difference… between lowland and highland demons, is much like the difference in elves and trolls, in reverse. Lowland elves and trolls… They're a dim shadow of their highland counterparts. And even highland elves, are nothing like the tales of the ancient elves." Jessup nodded thoughtfully. "Ilya has taken a lot of flack for her views. But I think she was on to something. And she's been looking at this a long time. If you need help with this… Please talk to her."

A sharp knock at the door preceded Erick into the room. Friedrich clasped Jessup's hand quickly and nodded. "Thank you. Excellent input, Jessup. Ah, Erick! Good evening! Our wandering sage has returned. Murata, please meet Erick, Lord Trondheim."

Jessup quietly drew the von Trondheims out into the hall to brief them on the situation in Boom Falls, so as not to worry their guests' children. Erick took the news quietly, partly eager to see Guya, partly worried about this change in her. None of them were worried about Guya handling the situation – she was a master at that sort of thing.

While they were gone, Friedrich murmured to Murata in passing, "Aldrich collaborates with Ilya on her research." Murata nodded thanks, pushing up on the bridge of his glasses. It felt good to have the real thing to fidget with again. He'd missed his habit badly while he walked among the ghosts.

True to form, Murata volunteered almost nothing over breakfast, tending to confirm the Tronds' dim opinion of the Bedamned Great Sage. Conrad nodded to Yozak, meeting his eye, and Yozak nodded back. These long-time lovers understood each other. _Pull out his damned toenails if you have to, Yozak – find out what Murata's up to._

Conrad and Brendan made plans with the four children for tonight's after-breakfast adventures in Trondheim. With a little wheedling from Greta, a laughing Erick agreed to join them for some broomball on the sliding rink, before he settled in to work for the night. Emboldened by Greta's success, Efram and Dietrich and Trenton hung onto Alana and Friedrich until they agreed to go slip and slide on the ice, too.

-oOo-

"You have Raisa's ghost timeline?" Wolfram asked Guya.

"Yup. And Morgif and everything else I could find in your room, and Aldrich and Manfred's as well," confirmed Guya. It was nearly midnight. They were harnessing the animals to the sleigh. Yuuri was already tucked into the sleigh riding furs, still sound asleep. "We have everything but Lord Aldrich and Lord Manfred."

"They said ten minutes, a half hour ago," groused Wolfram. For about the tenth time, he double-checked that his precious pouch of seeds was still around his neck.

Aldrich turned into the stableyard, shook hands with the mayor of Boom Falls, and climbed into the sleigh, exhausted. Wolfram patted his chest in question, and Aldrich checked and nodded. _Yes, I have mine, too._

"Climb in, Wolfram," Aldrich said. "Guya… One stop at the front of the hall. If I can't get Manfred into this sleigh within 3 minutes…"

Both of them stared at him. _Yes? Then what?_

Aldrich sighed. "We pick him up and drag him in."

Luckily, Manfred was already walking toward the stables, still talking to the scholar Raisa about what kind of patient followup information he wanted forwarded to him at Trond Hall.

"Get in the sleigh, Lord Manfred," ordered Aldrich. "Thanks so much for all your help, Raisa!" Under the thin guise of giving Manfred a helping hand, Aldrich hauled him up. "_Go,_ Guya!" And in a spray of snow, they were off, back to Trond Hall.

"Let's stop at the Fairy Circle for a meal again," suggested Guya.

Aldrich was sorely tempted as well – that wood meant a lot to him. He sighed. "Best to go straight back. It's a lot colder at night, and the Fairy Circle and a meal would add another hour or so to the trip."

Within minutes, Aldrich was sleeping as soundly as Yuuri, tenderly wrapped in blankets with Manfred, who cuddled him and shared body heat. It _was_ a lot colder at midnight than midafternoon. And the night clouded over. Their nightglasses allowed them to see well enough, but it wasn't nearly as pretty without the myriad mountain stars.

"Guya, if there's a long straightforward stretch, I could take a turn driving the sleigh," offered Manfred. "I raced them often enough as a kid in Gratz."

"Thanks, no, I'm good to go all night," said Guya. And she was. She'd never felt more alive. She'd been up until dawn, simply rolled over after _boom_, and slept until two in the afternoon.

Manfred, in contrast, was up at _boom_, and worked hard at healing, under stress, since nightfall. He soon fell asleep, face snuggled against Aldrich's unruly blue-blond bangs. Wolfram intended to stay up and keep Guya company, but during a companionable lull in the conversation, he drifted off as well.

Both woke up surprised as the sleigh came to a stop. They'd pulled the furs up over their faces to prevent frostbite. As they pulled them down to see what was going on, an accumulation of snow fell onto their faces.

"How long's this been going on?" asked Wolfram. Shifting up to peer over the sleigh side, he couldn't really see anything but swirling snow. "Guya, are we just taking a break?"

Guya didn't answer for a long moment, then said urgently, "Lord Manfred, could you please rouse Lord Aldrich? I don't like this."

Manfred responded swiftly to the worried tone, and Aldrich was stretching hugely in just a few moments. "I had the strangest dream," he said.

"Lord Aldrich," said Guya. "I think this is a ghost squall – it came out of nowhere, and close to whiteout in less than 5 minutes. Do you want to call, or shall I?"

Aldrich blinked and sat up, shivered hard, then clambered into the front seat with Guya. He turned slowly, studying the snow through all 360 degrees. He raised his signature flame, which simply guttered around until he dismissed it. He uttered a prayer in Trondish. Then they sat and waited a few minutes, him scanning one direction and Guya the other.

Wolfram started to ask what Aldrich was doing, but Manfred nudged him with a foot. Guya suddenly tapped Aldrich and pointed. A silver sphere and a bright green-white light wolf danced in and out of visibility, through thick and shifting snow streamers in this deep dark night.

"You want us to go to the Fairy Circle?" Aldrich asked, of the ghosts and the night and the snowy wind. The apparitions approached, each tapping his nose in turn, then receded the way they'd come. Aldrich nodded. "Is that the way to the Fairy Circle, Guya?"

Guya considered. "It's… no. But from here, in whiteout conditions, backtracking a bit that way would be safer. Directly from here would be pretty dangerous."

Aldrich nodded. "Let's try it and see if the snow lets up." After ten minutes on the new heading, the brilliant stars were out again. The ghosts had disappeared.

"No fresh snow here at all," commented Guya. "Well, I wanted to go back to the Fairy Circle, anyway, didn't you?"

Aldrich laughed. "Definitely. Hey, Wolfram, could we try rousing Yuuri? If the ghosts have more in store for us tonight, having a little Maou power on hand couldn't hurt."

"Good point," said Wolfram. Manfred pulled up the furs to unload their snow, making both Wolfram and Yuuri suddenly much colder. Wolfram gently stroked Yuuri's face and kissed his eyes.

"Mmm," said Yuuri, pulling Wolfram's face down for a lingering kiss. Then his eyes flew open and he scrabbled up to a seated position. "Huh?"

Wolfram filled him in on what had happened since he passed out. When he was done, Yuuri considered, and asked, "So do we know whether it actually helped people?"

"Yes," said Aldrich, definitively. Guya nodded strongly as well.

Manfred stared at Aldrich's back. He said more guardedly, "Everyone had a religious experience. Myself included, I think. If they use this to keep sober, all to the good. If they should decide this has _'cured'_ them and it's safe to drink again… Well, they'll soon learn otherwise. I've asked Raisa to keep me apprised of those… experiments." Aldrich looked back at his husband, then dropped his eyes and nodded, head to the front again.

"That's not just a theory, by the way," Manfred continued. He directed his comments at Yuuri, but more pointedly toward the alcoholics in the front seat. "The… soul, inner maryoku and strength, of the… celebrants, was uplifted. Elves almost unrecognizably so, trolls much more subtle – Aldrich's spirit isn't much changed. But the _disease_ markers are not changed in any way. They remain alcoholics. They just have greater inner resources and self-determinism, to _choose_ to stay sober."

Guya sighed. "I'd love to say otherwise, but I think Manfred's right. I just… it's hard to describe. I used to want to blot out my past and present and future. Now, I'm too eager for it, to want to blur it with a drink. When I drink I can't control it and that's not what I want. If that makes sense."

"Makes perfect sense," said Manfred. "What do you think, Aldrich? Do you feel the change in you?"

"Manfred's about as subtle as a hammer, isn't he?" said Aldrich. He sighed. "Message received, loud and clear, love. Some will experiment. And if I want to live, it better not be me." Guya was surprised that he was so open about it in front of Yuuri and Wolfram.

"Thank you," said Manfred, and clambered up to give his husband a hug from the back. "Truly, thank you. But it was an honest question – do you feel the change in you? I'd like to think you'd have managed to stay sober again for the 80-oddth year, anyway."

"Yeah…" said Aldrich. "Well, I feel different, but I'm not sure how. I had some wild dreams just now. Is it possible I got the wrong sphere, Yuuri?"

"No. I'm certain of that," said Yuuri. And he sounded more certain than he usually did about anything.

"Do you remember what happened this time, Yuuri? While you were Maou?" asked Wolfram.

Yuuri stared off into space, then brushed the tips of Wolfram's bangs with his thick leather mitt. "Yes. But I'd like to speak to Murata about it." He sighed. "One thing's for sure, I can't travel around Trondheim doing this one town at a time. But…" _But I may not have to. This was the wrong way to go about it._

Wolfram said, "I wonder if Franklin will let Murata go now. We've figured it out now, haven't we? Sort of? I mean, Yuuri and Morgif can turn ghosts back into normal souls."

"Well, Franklin's certainly not a ghost anymore," said Aldrich. "He's a soul sphere – I'll always recognize Lin's soul. So if Murata's still gone, someone else has him. As for solving how to let them _incarnate_… I'm not so sure."

Guya nodded. "They said there weren't enough to reincarnate into. And that troll souls couldn't fit into part-trolls. But didn't you prove that wrong, Lord Aldrich? Didn't more of you… fit?"

"I'm a bad test case," said Aldrich, without elaborating. "Ah, we're here! Whoa…" That last was in honor of a ghost convention going on in the trees. He'd never seen such a density of ghosts – light wolves of many brightnesses, sizes, and colors, and some few spheres as well.

Once they parked the sleigh, they all wandered toward the edge of the clearing within the circle of towering pines, to gaze in wonder.

"I wonder if I should swing Morgif around," suggested Yuuri.

"Don't," said Wolfram, abruptly. "Aldrich, come here! Feel this tree?" He had his mitted hand high on the bole of the closest pine. He was glowing slightly, with his special fire healer halo, a green verge between the blue core and outer golden part.

Aldrich laid a mitt on it as well, then stripped his mitts and laid bare hands and face against it. His fire healer glow was the inverse of Wolfram's, and far brighter at the moment – orange at the core, with a wide green band, and flickering blue periphery. "It's ready to be born," he said wonderingly.

"_What?_" the rest asked in unison. Aldrich ignored them, instead forming a beach-ball of maryoku between his hands, brilliantly lit.

Manfred's eyes narrowed. He was the only one familiar enough with Aldrich's flame to see that the green had increased. _But this is a regular tree! Or at least our weaker tree seeds live like normal trees! Don't they?_

"_Ah!_" cried Aldrich in surprise, then laughed. "Ooops, I almost dropped you! Get me a blanket quick, would you, Wolfram? Guya, I need your knife for the cord. Manfred, unbutton my coat for me. Oh, Manfred, he's_ adorable!_ Look at those sweet little hooves and those tiny horns!" For in his hands was suddenly a baby…

Faun. It was a perfect healthy baby boy… faun.

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I get discouraged, but reviews perk me back up. So taking a few minutes to review will make the next chapter come faster! Or the next story, if you're reading after this story is finished._

_Oh, and so far I have one vote for the character bios idea, as well as summaries for this story arc. Anyone else think that would be helpful? So you could look up who "Sylvain Lord Donaghie" was, or what life history has been added to "Gwendal von Walde"? _

_Please review?_


	9. Coming Back

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Authors Note:** _Sorry this chapter has been slow coming (for me…), but I got interested in the Character Bio project and writing summaries for the rest of the stories, so… Go check 'em out on my homepage link! There are new pictures, too! Of course, haven't written many of the bios yet…_

**Chapter 9 – Coming Back**

The rest of the group stood by, rather stunned by this baby faun in Aldrich's arms. But his thin cry of complaint galvanized first Manfred, and then the others, into action. Manfred unbuttoned Aldrich's coat so he could snuggle the faun inside, against his body heat. Wolfram came out of his stupor and ran to the sleigh to fetch a blanket as Aldrich had asked. Guya produced her knife, for Manfred to cut the umbilical cord.

Of all possible questions, Yuuri selected this one to ask first. "Why does the baby have an umbilical cord?" This appendage led to the tree. Who was not a mammal. In any way.

Manfred hastily finished cutting the cord, before he allowed himself to crack up laughing – laughing so hard it brought tears.

Wolfram brought back the blanket and hastily swaddled the baby against the cold. "Why is Chichiue laughing so hard? What did I miss?"

Guya explained, "Instead of asking anything about how or why Aldrich plucked a faun out of a tree, Yuuri asked why he had an umbilical cord."

"Oh!" said Manfred, wiping tears from his eyes and bringing himself under control. Aldrich was grinning at him. Manfred pounded Yuuri on the shoulder. "It's a _very_ good question, Yuuri. But Friedrich and Garena and I have bellybuttons, too. So, all babies who come out of trees, do have umbilical cords."

Guya stared at Manfred, then the tree. "You –"

"We should get back to Trond Hall," Aldrich cut her off. "It's too cold out here for the baby. Let's eat a hot meal, and get going. We can explain on the way, Guya."

"I'm _really_ looking forward to that explanation," said Manfred, demonic green eyes glinting. "Faun, huh?"

Aldrich shook his head. "I never met a faun before last summer. Nor ever… done anything with a faun. Honest."

"Aldrich…" said Wolfram, "I think all the trees are like this." There were a dozen trees in the Fairy Circle. "And this one… Could it have another inside? Though it feels… different."

Aldrich put his bare hand on the tree bole he'd drawn the faun from. His eyes flew wide. "That's not a faun…" he said slowly. "We need to contact Tariel. I don't understand what's happening here. "

Tariel – Friedrich's, er, mother – was the last living wood nymph. It was from him that Aldrich and Wolfram inherited the ability to create tree seeds. But he said they would only be… trees. He'd told them that only the special seeds, with high life maryoku, could grow into saplings from which Aldrich could draw out a baby demon. One baby per sapling, his and Manfred's child, or Wolfram and Yuuri's from Wolfram's seed. But Aldrich had no faun ancestry. Nor had Franklin, the other parent of the seeds Aldrich had planted in this circle. Something different was happening here.

"We could bring four babies, couldn't we?" said Guya. "Maybe more? We can't just leave them here, alone in the cold!"

"Well, we'd come back for them," said Aldrich. "They're not cold until I deliver them out of the tree. Guya, we're not equipped to care for a dozen babies. We've nothing to feed them. And there's no telling what _kind_ of babies these are." He looked uneasily at the tree he stood by. "I want Tariel."

"Well, I agree twelve is too many," said Yuuri. "But I agree with Guya that we could handle four. Maybe six. Aldrich? Is this within your strength?" Yuuri's arms were crossed. Without getting too pushy about it, he was giving his verdict as Maou.

Aldrich sighed. "Yes, Sire. But not… this one. Let's get some hot food first, and arrange the sleigh, then… Manfred and Wolfram can help me deliver a few more."

This they did. They explained along the way to Guya, that Aldrich and Wolfram had this ability to produce seeds because of their wood nymph ancestry. But that these particular trees weren't supposed to produce babies. Guya seemed to accept yet another miracle easily enough. And to Wolfram and Aldrich's relief, she didn't press them on _how_ they made seeds.

Aldrich was selective about which trees he delivered, on the theory that six of the same problem, would be easier to handle than a mishmash of problems. So they ended up with six newborns, all fauns. Guya marked the delivered trees with some pink lip paint from her luggage, and the ones Aldrich skipped with red lip paint. Ordinarily she would have cut a notch into the trees, but it didn't feel right, cutting into a new… mother. Before they left, she patted the first tree, and promised they'd be back, just as soon as they could be.

None of them knew anything about baby fauns, except for Guya. What she knew was that there hadn't _been_ one for nearly a century. "Oh, my friend Freerie will be so happy to _meet_ you!" she crooned to a baby. "Freerie _so_ wants a baby, and she and her husband haven't managed it!"

"Are there fauns in Trondheim?" asked Aldrich. He'd never seen any here. He couldn't remember where the fauns at the Racial Accords conference had come from.

"Maybe down in the resettlement camps around Kriegsbad," suggested Guya. "Freerie wrote to me, that they were thinking of moving here, too – they live in the mountains of Wincott, near the Gratz border. But I wrote back that she should wait, because things here were still too unsettled. Now I hope she didn't get the letter in time. Erick will know for sure, though. Yes, sweetie, I'm sure you'll have _lots_ of fauns who want to adopt you!"

Guya reluctantly handed the baby off to Aldrich, so she could drive the sleigh. They had nothing to feed the babies, but that was alright. They seemed plump and healthy newborns, able to wait a few hours for the 'milk to come in'. In the meantime, they eagerly sucked at any finger on offer.

The men in the back of the sleigh formed a kind of blanket tent pulled up to their waists, to keep the well-swaddled babies inside, so they weren't exposed to wind or too much cold. Wolfram stayed under the tent, entertaining himself by dressing each little faun in a sock hat. For an inner lining, he wrapped the three boys in Manfred and Aldrich's nightgowns, the girls in Wolfram's pink nighties and yukata. Then he nestled each bundle back into furs and woolen sweaters.

"Oh, Yuuri," said Wolfram, entranced with the babies' tiny hooves and horns. "Do you think we could adopt one? I want to nestle one skin-to-skin under my sweater, like we did when Bertram was little."

"Ah, no, Wolfram, love – please don't do that," said Yuuri. Now that Wolfram mentioned it, he urgently wanted to join Wolfram in a bed doing just that – but it was a bad idea. "The faun community is very small. Guya, do you know how many fauns there are?"

"Next to extinct, non-viable" she answered. During the Racial Accords conference, they'd become all too familiar with that term – a race with too few members to fight their way back from extinction. "They thought maybe fifty. Can only crossbreed with centaurs, who are also down to non-viable numbers. And no babies."

"Every one of those fauns has more right to these children than we do," said Yuuri. "We'll care for them in trust, but only fauns can adopt them, until every last faun has had a chance to claim them."

"Erick will find a hall to adopt the community whole," Guya said confidently. "That's an _easy_ community to adopt." She took it for granted that the fauns would be happiest here in Trondheim.

Yuuri suspected that she was right. He smiled at her softly. _I think I'm growing to love my domain of Trondheim,_ he thought.

Aldrich caught the look, and was well content. He snuggled two of his changeling children closer.

-oOo-

They reached the last dip and ridge before Trond Hall, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Erick was up there skiing, and spotted them. He skied down on their side of the ridge, greeting Guya with a whoop and big hug. He met a baby faun or two, then rode beside Guya to the top of the ridge, Guya talking a mile a minute to tell him all that had happened.

During his turns to talk, Erick was clearly delighted with the faun development, and deeply moved and hopeful about the ghost-and-alcoholic reunions. He got Yuuri's promise to include Erick and Alana in the very next round of spirit reunions.

Yes, there were fauns in Kriegsbad, but he thought there might also be some in Bruschella below the Escarpment. Yes, he'd send to both places ASAP and get some foster fauns up here on the double. Yes, the dragons had been summoned, and one might be willing to fetch a faun or three. And yes, in the meantime, they had plenty of goat milk to feed the babies. Erick mentioned that Murata was back, too, but that he'd been close-lipped and then gone to sleep, so far as he knew. And the rest of the family seemed to be enjoying their vacation. The boys Dietrich and Trenton were happily exhausted and nodding off over their lunches every night. Ghosts knew what adolescent Efram and Greta were up to, but so far no one was pressing charges. Guya let Erick off at the top of the ridge. He took Alana's high ski jump shortcut to reach Trond Hall ahead of them, to prepare for their arrival.

Things were crazy for a while when they reached the Hall. Eventually, the six baby fauns were set up in a nursery, jury-rigged just upstairs from a greenhouse, right above a large bathing vault. The area was normally used as a school, and had a light room across the hall from a dark. Aldrich had hinted that other treeborns might well be of the nocturnal races. Jessup, the von Trondheims' top demon retainer, asked his wife to coordinate the nursery, with able elf and demon nurses, and adoring goblin assistants. Guards at the door allowed visitors to look, not touch, and kept the crowds quiet and moving along.

Yuuri's group had decided along the way that, for public consumption, the treeborns were just a part of the Maou-ghost miracle, which was true enough. That the seeds that grew the trees were from Aldrich, nobody really needed to know, nor that Aldrich and the wood nymphs Tariel and Garena, Manfred's father, were the only ones who could deliver babies out of the trees. The Maou-ghost-miracle mystique would do well enough, for now.

Friedrich and Alana, and the rest from Blood Pledge Castle, were still asleep. Yuuri advised that rather than wake them, the newlyweds and Guya should get some sleep themselves. They all wanted to go back to the Fairy Circle to get the next batch of babies, and hoped to make it there this evening. But they needed sleep before another round trip.

Jessup, face glowing with quiet joy, promised he'd arrange nursery-sleighs on the day shift, and brief the others when they woke.

Relieved of excuses, Erick happily went off to bed with Guya. Not for worlds would he or Guya miss the return trip to see the miracle of the faun-bearing trees. Nor was Erick willing to let go of Guya. The change in her was remarkable. Sleep wasn't as urgent as all that – they made time to talk and make love and talk again first.

It was a scary thing, to have his lover change so radically, so fast. Guya was a different person than just a couple days ago. But these two were childhood sweethearts – growing up together was what they _did_. Guya had found a solution to a shared problem, and Erick was eager to share her solution. And Guya in turn was happy to confirm that indeed, maybe she didn't need to go thrill-seeking anymore, but making love to Erick, for her, was still as good as it got.

-oOo-

_Bang, bang, bang!_ "Chichiue? Are you awake?" Dietrich's voice wafted through Aldrich and Manfred's door. Aldrich groaned and Manfred laughed.

"We're awake _now,_" growled Aldrich. "C'mon in, Diet…"

Dietrich and Trenton zoomed into the room and jumped on top of Aldrich on the bed. "Welcome back, welcome back!" Dietrich threw his arms around his father's neck and kissed him five times over. "I missed you! Chichiue, there are fauns! But the nurses won't let us go near them! Is it true? You're getting more baby fauns tonight? Please take us with you, please-_please!_"

Trenton was nodding his head off and bouncing on the bed on his knees. Manfred tackled him to make him stop.

Brendan finally arrived at the door, sheepish and out of breath. "_Boys_… Ah, I'm sorry, Aldrich. They escaped."

Dietrich and Trenton hugged each other, pressing their faces side to side in their most angelic blond siamese-twin pose, and begged, "Please-please-_please?_"

"Um, alright," said Aldrich, then winced at the ear-splitting screeches of delight from the boys, who immediately bounced off the bed and scampered away. "I missed you too, Diet," he said, laughing.

At which, Dietrich ran back and hugged his father again, and hugged and kissed Manfred, and hugged his father again. "I missed you, I love you! Thank you for taking us tonight!"

"Alright, alright," he chuckled. "Go off with Brendan now, OK, Diet?"

After they scampered away, Manfred said, "Is it my imagination, or does Diet just keep getting cuter?"

Aldrich grumped unconvincingly. "I'm biased. But he's passably cute. They remind me of you and Adelbert."

"I was _never_ sweet," denied Manfred. Aldrich raised an eyebrow. "Neither was Adelbert."

Aldrich laughed out loud at that, and threw a pillow at him. "If they're up, so is Chichi. Let's call Tariel and Garena and get some answers." Friedrich was the only one of them who knew how to contact Tariel and Garena, short of going to the Krist Fens and wandering around whistling for them.

Aldrich and Manfred met up with Wolfram and Yuuri in the hall. They'd been similarly tackled by Greta and Efram demanding faun access. Conrad caught them as well, having slipped away from the kids, and claimed wood nymphy secret business to Brendan and Yozak. They found Friedrich readily enough.

The first hangup was Alana, at Friedrich's side. "Well, we'll see you later, dear," said Friedrich, leading the group away.

"I will _not_ be _dismissed_ that way, _husband,_" said Alana, royal blue eyes glinting dangerously.

Friedrich sighed deeply, stopped, and turned to his wife. "Alana, it's a matter of logistics. We're working a lot of issues, and it will save time –"

"Sell it to the _goblins,_ Friedrich," replied Alana. "This is _my_ domain, and internal business if ever there was any." External business might be Erick's turf, but blowing off Alana on internal business, was like trying to tell Yuuri's Chancellor Gwendal that Yuuri's public policy was none of his concern.

"True," allowed Friedrich. "Alright, Alana. But the wood nymph kin have secrets, just as the troll-kin do. We are both guardians of that sensitive knowledge, the security of our endangered races, yes? For this meeting, I wish to speak freely with my… Tariel and Garena and the other nymph-kin. We'll certainly brief you later on any details that impact Trondheim."

Alana smiled, fangs gleaming sweetly. She spoke sweetly, too. "Why that _does_ make sense, dear. Except that His Majesty is not a wood nymph."

"Aha," said Yuuri. "Yes, Lady Alana. But we believe _I'm _the one who made the trees… pregnant. Somehow. And the wood nymph and trolls are both my subjects -"

This was not actually true. Tariel and Garena lived, probably, in the Krist Fens, but had zero intention of ever calling themselves citizens of _that_ upstart racist domain, or probably any other part of Shin Makoku. Tariel was there _first._ Wolfram and the nymph-kin hadn't seen any future in conveying this distinction to Yuuri.

So Wolfram unexpectedly cut in, "If I may? I think Alana's points are well taken. The bulk of what we'll be discussing does concern Trondheim. So, rather than brief her later, we could include her from the start. In fact, it might be… effective… to include Murata as well. And since Yuuri's vassal in Trondheim is actually _Erick,_ not Alana directly, we could invite Erick as well. And, Erick may feel that way about Guya. So, perhaps it would be best to just include everyone from the start. Then if Tariel and Garena have private issues to discuss with some of us, those can be handled separately. I would just ask that the Trondheim group save their questions for later. Would that be… acceptable?" Wolfram looked around at everyone.

Conrad and Manfred looked tolerably impressed, Aldrich resigned. Yuuri and Alana positively glowed at him.

Friedrich sighed in defeat – he would rather have kicked Yuuri out of the meeting. "Alright. Alana, if you agree, please collect Erick and Guya and Murata, and meet us in the tropical fruit tree greenhouse in 15 minutes." He gestured for the rest to follow him for a stop at the kitchens to grab a bite of breakfast.

Alana was still standing there, staring at him in amazed distaste – he'd named the hottest, brightest greenhouse, and it was high noon. _What on earth…? _

"Don't be late," added Friedrich, with a demonic green glance over his shoulder.

She shook her head in disbelief, and got moving, to wake the others.

"I would have preferred to say that they flew in with the dragons," Friedrich commented mildly to Wolfram.

Wolfram shrugged unapologetically. "That just begs the question of how you summoned the dragons. Might as well just be straight with them, and vow them to secrecy."

"Secrecy," repeated Friedrich. "Aldrich, in your estimation, would your mother keep secrets about the nymph-kin's powers, from the troll-kin? Any more than we would keep secrets from each other, about the safety of the nymph-kin?"

Aldrich rubbed his forehead, as though nursing an incipient headache. "Father… _I _don't even know how to call Tariel and Garena." Aldrich, of course, was a quarter wood nymph from his father, and a quarter troll from his mother – both nymph-kin_ and_ troll-kin. "I… don't think Tariel and Troll Mother are so very different, really..."

The others stared at him, Yuuri with a great deal more sympathy than the others. _Tariel doesn't declare war, nor kill, nor eat her own children, Aldrich._

"Right," said Friedrich. "You can all wait out the hall until after I've called Tariel and Garena."

-oOo-

Twenty minutes later, Friedrich allowed them into the greenhouse, and reminded the non-nymphs to save the Q&A for the long drive to the Fairy Circle. Alana left a guard posted at the door to redirect would-be traffic. They joined Tariel and Garena at some benches in the center of the greenhouse pyramid, screened by large rubbery tropical plants.

Tariel looked his usual, uncannily like a boy Wolfram of perhaps age 40, or a human 11 year old. He wore a simple tan sleeveless shift that ended above his knees, bare feet swinging from the bench, legs not quite long enough to reach the paving stones. Garena, slightly more eclectic in his projections, wore the same shift, but was today sporting exactly Friedrich's scant height, about 5'3", with a mature demon face and body. His hair was in many beaded blond braids, as usual.

Friedrich said, "Alana, Erick, Guya, Murata, please allow me to introduce my parent Tariel, and my brother Garena." They blinked. They stared. Erick and Alana had seen them before, but even they weren't aware the wood nymphs' relationship to Friedrich was _that_ close. "Tariel, Garena, this is my wife Alana, ruling Lady Trondheim. Her great-nephew Erick, ruling Lord Trondheim. Erick's retainer Guya'k'vriel. And the Great Sage Murata Ken." Tariel and Garena inclined their heads slightly to acknowledge the introduction, faces expressionless. They simply looked back at Friedrich, waiting for him to begin the meeting.

"We have several issues here in Trondheim that we seek your assistance with," said Friedrich. He let Erick explain first what he wanted the dragons to do. Friedrich asked Manfred to explain Yuuri's strange ghost-conversions to whole souls with Morgif. And last he asked Aldrich to explain the tree-fauns.

"Actually I need to back up a moment," said Aldrich. "Manfred, I think you may have been blinded by the light, that first time with Morgif at the Fairy Circle. Tariel, there were about a dozen light-wolves in the trees – one elven wolf, and the rest small cubs. I'd never seen the like before. _Those_ Morgif also ate and disgorged – bright little soul spheres rose up into the trees. Then at Boom Falls, a number of extra souls were also converted from the light wolves, which didn't belong to the people in the crowd. One I'm sure was Franklin von Trondheim, Erick's father." Erick and Alana gasped behind him. "I believe that was when Murata was freed?"

Murata nodded, chin in hand, listening intently. "Yes, I saw this scene from the ghost world, until the moment Franklin was sucked into Morgif. Then I woke up here."

Aldrich nodded and turned back to the wood nymphs – well, one was only half wood nymph, but Friedrich's brother Garena favored his nymph-parent Tariel, while Friedrich favored their demon father. Aldrich said, "There were a number of other spheres. Most were troll souls, I'm sure. But there was a golden sphere, large and bright. And three bright green soul spheres. These three tapped Wolfram, Manfred, and myself, on the nose."

Tariel, whose cold beauty rarely registered any emotion at all, suddenly grimaced at him in rage. Tariel hopped off his bench and stormed off into the pyramid's undergrowth.

Concerned about Tariel's feelings, Yuuri rose and held out a hand, as if to start after him. But Garena was suddenly standing in front of Yuuri to block him. "No one must else leave this spot," he said. "Except Friedrich. Friedrich, please go after Tariel."

Friedrich looked worried, "Garena… are you sure… you shouldn't…?"

"I'm sure. Please take good care of him?" Garena met Friedrich's eye. Then the old man who was Garena's twin, took off after their mother, who looked to be a child.

Garena turned back to Aldrich, and glanced at Alana as well. "Have you seen the same in Troll Mother, perhaps? If you get too close to the core of her pain? It is hard to… surprise Tariel." The nymph-kin would have thought it was _impossible_ to surprise Tariel – he saw all branches of the immediate future, all the time. Though perhaps today's branches were… branchier than usual. "But there are things Tariel will not look at, refuses to consider. Because the pain is too overwhelming. It is not your fault, Aldrich. Please finish your story."

Yuuri and Aldrich and Conrad understood. At the meetings last spring with Troll Mother, the meetings that precipitated the crisis, that led to the new Racial Accords – the Dragon Insurrection – _that_ was when Troll Mother had lost her cool completely. When Yuuri had tread too close to her hopes and fears and trust. She'd turned on him and Aldrich suddenly, viciously.

Aldrich explained about giving birth to the fauns. He hesitated. "There were some trees I skipped over. I wanted to consult you and Tariel first."

Garena nodded, and said very softly, "Tell me. Friedrich and I will tell Tariel, gently… One was a wood nymph?"

Aldrich nodded, and sighed. "I think one or more of them, yes. One was… whatever the golden sphere was. I have no idea."

"Centaur, perhaps," said Garena. There was no _perhaps_ about it – he simply consulted the future and found out. "And?"

"More fauns. I think some were trolls. One…" he looked at Erick, "was Franklin. But… not as a troll. Garena, that stand of trees was mobbed by light wolves. The trees filled up with new… entities inside, each time we pulled a faun out."

Garena considered. "Only to the limit of ghosts Yuuri has freed, though. About how many is that?"

"Maybe thirty," suggested Manfred. Wolfram and Aldrich nodded.

"Are there other trees of your planting, closer to… Where are we, anyway?" Garena asked.

"Trond Hall," said Aldrich, then continued guessing at something that would help Garena get his bearings – clearly Garena wasn't strong on demon geography. "In Trondheim? The cliffs near the Fens go up into the mountains of the trolls? We're at the new western capital of the domain of the part-trolls." Garena nodded comprehension. "Yes, there's a stand I planted much closer. It's not the same, though… The Fairy Circle was planted in stone. Only the twelve trees of my planting are there, a bare circle in the center." Garena glowered at him, at the idea of planting a tree in stone. "I… didn't know," Aldrich finished lamely. "I just… It was an experiment."

"_Anyway," _said Garena forcefully, in a sudden rare resemblance to his son Manfred, "Yuuri should not free more ghosts into soul spheres _there_, if it is hard to carry babies to _here._" Yuuri nodded agreement. "Are we done talking? May I see the fauns?"

Conrad asked, "Then… do we come back here and finish this discussion? After you've studied the fauns?"

"Finish what discussion?" Garena returned. "There are babies in a wood to be born. When we are ready, we go get them. Then we do the next thing and the next. While we wait, I see the fauns. I've never seen a baby faun before. They must be very cute."

"When do we… talk to the dragons?" suggested Erick timidly. He'd actually expected quite a lot of discussion. Like, why ghosts turned into souls turned into babies in trees, and what wood nymphs had to do with it?

"Not yet," said Garena. "Tomorrow the dragons, is better. Come." He headed for the door into the hall. Aldrich and Yuuri tried to lag behind, to wait for Friedrich and Tariel. But Garena was insistent – _no one_ could stay in the greenhouse with them.

-oOo-

Friedrich didn't bother to search through the pyramid. He made his way directly to a very short tree by the periphery, in the lower, colder part of the pyramid. Its leaves had fallen for the winter. Most people couldn't have identified this bare deciduous tree, barely fourteen feet tall, without its spring flowers, let alone without its leaves. It wasn't stunted from life in the spacious greenhouse. This kind never grew much taller. It was beautiful when it bloomed in the spring, when it stood out in the fresh sun, before the other trees were in full leaf. Or in the fall, dressed in brilliant golden leaves a week or so longer than its tall neighbors. The rest of the time it blended in, anonymous underbrush, the least of the forest trees.

Friedrich would recognize it anywhere, any time.

He laid his forehead on its smooth white bark, and felt Tariel crying, sobbing in agony, somewhere. _"Tariel? …Mother? Please. Please come into the physical, where I can be with you?"_ Even in his mind, he had to use words, though he remembered a time when he didn't, when he was little and could speak to Tariel as the wood nymph spoke.

"_Noooo….! I can't! I can't face…! Not again…"_ The words said little, but Tariel spoke volumes in the nonverbal range. He'd been hurt. He'd been hurt, over and over, and hurt so badly, that he refused to ever hurt like that again. Even remembering how badly it hurt, brought him to the brink of insanity.

_"Please?"_ Friedrich tried, gently but insistently. _"You're not alone, Mother. Please come to the physical. Share your pain with me, let me bear it with you? I can hold you here. I'm sorry I could never follow you into the trees, Mother. I'm sorry I couldn't be as good a son to you, as Garena. I'm sorry we weren't the wood nymphs you wanted."_

"Pathetic," complained Tariel. "That was a _low_ argument, Friedrich." But he had appeared physically, at the base of the tree, knees huddled to his chest, shuddering.

Friedrich ignored the words, and sat to gather the seeming child into his arms. "I know it's not the same, a physical hug. But it's my world, this living in a body. And touch is one of the best things in it." He pulled away a little and tipped up Tariel's head, to look into his eyes. The beautiful 'demonic' green eyes of their clan, which his twin sister Emeraude had made so famous across the domains, were actually Tariel's green eyes. But now they stared back at him deadened, haunted, past caring.

"Sometimes," Friedrich said softly, folding the ancient 'child' into his arms again, "when I'm too afraid to face what happens just next? I focus on the time after. When the scary part is over, and the part I hope for is here. Not the part where it comes, the major changing and adjustments, but the part where the change is safely over and comfortable. I see it with mothers sometimes, too, facing the agony of childbirth, the terror. Or soldiers, facing a hideous battle. They look to the other side. That's what we say in our army going into action, _'See you on the other side'_. When it's over -"

"But I won't," said Tariel, in a very small voice. "I won't see you on the other side, Friedrich. It's _this,_ that is over."

"I don't understand," said Friedrich. "I thought… when you… I thought Aldrich was saying that there will be wood nymphs. That you'll reunite with your own kind. What is over?"

At the mention of reuniting with wood nymphs, Tariel's fingers unconsciously dug into Friedrich's shoulders like claws. His whole body stiffened, jaw clenched, arms lock-elbowed, pushing Friedrich away a little. "No," he said, his head shaking denial harder and harder. "No! NO! I won't! I won't believe it again! I won't hope again! _NOOOO!!!"_

But Friedrich was an old hand at healing the severely traumatized. He went back and forth with Tariel's denial. It was like the lapping of waves, seeming to go right back where they started, but slowly reaching higher up the beach with the incoming tide. So he led Tariel to gradually accepting that _this_ time, it might really be true. The wood nymphs might really return. That Tariel could face it, that which he dared not dream of anymore.

"I'm the least of them, you know," said Tariel, quavering. "I was too short and unimportant for the magic to silence, as it did the great wood nymphs. If they return, there will never be another half-nymph like you and Garena. Sorry you got such a shrimpy wood nymph, Friedrich."

Friedrich laughed out loud at this incongruous regret. "We may be short, Mother, but we're _very_ good looking!" He squeezed the nymph's hand and sobered, to say sincerely, "You're the _greatest_ of the wood nymphs now, Mother. Hope after hope was dashed, and you still dared to hope again, knowing how badly it would hurt, and –" he held a hand up to stop Tariel backsliding, that he still had every intention of _never_ hoping again! "_And_ – it's working, Mother. It took too long. It hurt _far_ too much. But Mother, it's working. Through your _'failed'_ children… Aldrich, Manfred, Wolfram and his Maou – they brought back the wood nymphs. Infinite price for infinite value… Some things just hurt like hell. But they're worth it."

"You're right, Friedrich," admitted Tariel at last, quietly. "You were worth it. All three of you, and all your children. Even if the wood nymphs didn't come back. You were worth it. I shall miss you."

"What?" Tariel was over 4,000 years old, maybe much much older, and seemingly ageless. But Friedrich was old for a demon, all the friends of his youth long dead. "Is… my time over, Mother?"

"No," said Tariel, and abruptly rose. "I want to see baby fauns. Please take care of Garena, Friedrich."

"I don't understand," complained Friedrich. But Tariel was already walking away toward the fauns. Tariel simply never answered a question, if he didn't want to.

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

_After reviewing, please check out the homepage link on my author's profile – new stuff!_

_1. I've started a wiki for the character bios project – have a long way to go there, but a few entries (blue ones) have content. If who you wanted to look up isn't there yet, please be sure to leave a note, who I should bio next!_

_2. If you click through to the old illustrations site, all stories have summaries now._

_3. New pictures! Bananam00n's portrait of Guya, and a movie of Bertram's maryoku signature._

_Please review?_


	10. Shinou’s Fountain

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Authors Note:** _Hmmm. Well, yes, gentle readers, I **had** rather intended to get rid of Tariel… On the vague abstract theory that creating demigods is not really the best storytelling… Though as demigods go, Tariel's mostly harmless. But you convinced me otherwise! See? One really should write reviews! Thanks!_

**Chapter 10 – Shinou's Fountain**

While the others cooed and coddled, delighted with the baby fauns, Murata held up a wall, chin on fist. His eyes twitched away whenever they alit on a faun by accident. _Tiallee…_ The faun shepherd friend of Daikenja's childhood in pre-Gratz, haunted him. The multitude of the ghosts of Trondheim, arrayed below his perch on the roof of Trond Hall, haunted him. Vladimir's army at the last battle of Old Trond Hall, haunted him. The pale timid demons of Jessup's story haunted him.

_Franklin_ haunted him.

He could scarce credit that he _missed_ his captor. To his companions in the faun nursery, it was only a few days since they'd last spoken with Murata. But for Murata, rag-picking through memories of ancient horror, it seemed a subjective lifetime. And sharing that journey with Franklin – he was glad his wife Giesela wasn't along on this trip. There was nothing sexual about it. But his experience with Franklin was one of the most _intimate _of all his long memory of lifetimes. He knew he should put down his quest for a moment, join in with the joy around him, strive to return to his friends in spirit. But his sudden grief for Franklin, the weight of souls, held him pinned to the wall.

_It would have to be** fauns**. Like Tiallee…_

Murata would recognize Tiallee's soul in a baby. If Tiallee were here. If Murata stepped forward to look at the babies, he would. He would… _Not yet_. He fingered the bridge of his glasses, glad to have them back, to fidget with.

Now that he was back, he dreamed. There was no sleep in his ghost-life. But in dreaming, linear experience was broken up, rearranged. What had he been dreaming, when Alana woke him for the wood nymph meeting? Oh, yes… He'd relived this one, early in his travels with Franklin. The missing puzzle pieces had come later…

-oOo-

Shinou's back looked oily with sweat, in the dim light of the waning moon, though the summer night was cool. The unglazed windows lay open to the predawn dew. Shinou grumbled, and spoke, and whined, and pleaded, and cried, and moaned, and grumbled. Each utterance seemed a new voice.

Daikenja sat wrapped in a sheet, his pallet next to Shinou's on the flagged floor in old Castle Bielenfeld, much like two futons in Murata's life in Japan. He watched Shinou in his troubled, troubling dreams. Night after night like this – his lover had hardly any natural sleep since the enemy Soushu had been vanquished. A hollow victory it seemed, in the dark of the night like this.

_Stop that,_ Daikenja admonished himself. _It was a victory. We had to win at all cost, for the stakes were the existence of the world itself. Of course the cost was high._

_But tomorrow night he needs a sleeping draught again, from Erhard or Christel Wincott. They've warned that these are too strong. Shinou doesn't get real sleep. And he is becoming addicted, his personality warping under the multiple strains. But nothing else gives Shinou rest!_

"Daikenja, it's me, Tiallee," Shinou muttered. Daikenja's eyes flew open. Shinou's eyes were still closed, his body restless though he lay on his stomach. "We're trapped here. Save us, Daikenja." Then Shinou's voice shifted tone again, a higher-pitched frightened muttering that Daikenja couldn't make out.

Daikenja pressed his palm to his mouth in horror. It had been a few months, since the great battle. Word had slowly trickled in, of how things were now, in the lands surrounding the final battlefield. It was enough to give them _all_ nightmares. Traders gone to the eastern mountains, Daikenja's homeland, came back haunted. No signs of struggle. Houses left with meals on the table, windows open, laundry flapping in the breeze. But the people were gone, _vanished_. No bodies, no explanation. No centaurs. No fauns. No low mountain ogres, or high mountain trolls. The trees still stood, but no wood nymphs answered. No double-blacks like Daikenja. Just – _gone!_

Southeast of the mountains, through the Fens and to the coast – gone! Northwest, continuing on that same line through the battlefield, to the far end of the kingdom of Bielenfeld – gone! And the line from Daikenja's homeland, through the battlefield, to the southwestern coast – gone! Like a giant X had been written across the continent, centered at the place where they stood to imprison Soushu in the boxes. Demons lived in all four quadrants. But the other races, in the east and west quadrants, including the entire great realm of Queen Natasha and King Vladimir of the trolls – vanished, without a trace. Including Daikenja's friends and family. _Including Tiallee._

_Trapped here, you said? Trapped **where**, Tiallee? And how do you speak to me through Shinou's mouth! How do you come to haunt my lover!_ Daikenja crawled closer to the moaning Shinou, on hands and knees, listening closer. But none of the other mutterings spoke to him, addressed him.

Demons lived. But babies had been born by now. Listless infants, easily taken by illnesses. Prince Rufas' father the King had complained of it just the other night at dinner – that a woman had brought him an infant dead of _colic_, for heaven's sake. The woman had wailed and ranted at him, ran at him, raked her nails on his cheeks, screamed and begged – why were the babies failing?

Erhard and Christel Wincott, alarmed at this tale, had gone into the town, asking to meet babies born since the final battle. They came back pale and worried. _Weak souls, _they said. _Each baby they met had a weak soul._

_Are we all to perish after all? The demons only delayed a generation?_

Daikenja roused Shinou, gathered him into his arms. "You're having nightmares, again, my love," he murmured gently.

"It's like a multitude in my head," complained Shinou. "They fade into the background when I'm awake. I can still hear their constant muttering in the background, but I can ignore it. But when I sleep… it's like they're trying to get out. Daikenja, my beautiful black… What _is_ this strange illness?"

"We need to do an exorcism," Daikenja said with confidence. "But we need to do an experiment first. I need _you_ to meet one of these weak-souled babies. Are you willing?"

"I'm willing to try anything," moaned Shinou, laying his cheek on his lover's breast.

That day, they went out into the town with Christel. The babies Shinou touched, recovered. Christel verified that their once weak souls, were now strong. He followed up in a week, a month, a year. The babies remained strong. Prince Rufas let it be known throughout the kingdom, that babies should all be brought to Castletown, to be blessed by the Great Shinou, to ensure their health. Those who did, thrived.

In time, Daikenja caused the first temple to Shinou to be built. Shinou was mortified – how dare they set him up like some kind of a _god_ to be worshipped! But within the temple, Daikenja built the first fountain. The ceremony of investiture took many days. It was his first draft of the spell, and he made mistakes. But he did manage to exorcise those Bielenfeld souls from Shinou, and interr them into the temple fountain at Castletown. And the babies blessed by baptism at the temple, had their souls fully restored, just like the ones Shinou had touched. And Shinou's touch and blessing no longer accomplished anything. The Bielenfeld souls had been transferred.

And there they remained. Locked in Bielenfeld to this day, four millenia later.

It became clear after a while that the souls healed by the fountain, stayed healed through their reincarnations. For most demon babies, the Presentation to Shinou was simply a religious festival. They were born with whole souls. Many, the refugees who flooded into the new kingdom of Shin Makoku south of Bielenfeld, and the new domain of Wincott, carved from northern Bielenfeld, had never suffered weak souls in the first place. But vials of the water of Shinou's fountain were kept in villages throughout Shin Makoku and its domains, always at the ready, to baptize a baby who wasn't sure to make it to the year's Presentation. Even today, sometimes this simple drop of water, saved their lives. The best trained healers kept vials from both fountains. This was unimportant in the south. But Murata hoped that Wincott and Bielenfeld retained the tradition of presenting demon children at _both _fountains.

Every demon baby. Every _demon_ baby. Every _demon_ baby anointed into the cult of _Shinou_. An act beyond blasphemy, beneath contempt, to the people of Trondheim, to the remnants of the vanishing races, scattered in their remote hiding places. Those who trusted not at all the demons of the Shinou cult.

-oOo-

"Eh, Murata," said Yuuri, in Japanese, sidling up to his old friend, a faun in his arms. He searched Murata's eyes in kind concern. He said softly, "Joyous event, ne? A miracle, the birth of nearly extinct races from trees, ne? Strange how Tariel and Garena, Alana and you, are all acting like it's a funeral, ne?"

Murata followed his eyes around the room. The other vacationers had found them in the nursery some time ago, and by now Tariel had rejoined the group. Tariel sat silently on the floor, hugging his knees, detached and wooden. He watched as Brendan and Friedrich taught Dietrich and Trenton how to handle the babies. Garena stood to the other side of the room, tracks of silent tears on his cheeks. Manfred and Wolfram and Efram tried unsuccessfully to find out what was wrong, and failing that, to at least tell the demon-wood nymph that they cared about him. The group centered on Conrad and Yozak and Greta was actually having fun. But Alana sat on a windowsill crying softly, her son Aldrich's arm around her.

"Eh," agreed Murata. He gulped, and at last brought himself to extend a hesitant hand toward the faun in Yuuri's arms. He touched a fingertip to one precious tiny horn, smaller than the nail on his pinkie. And immediately yanked his hand back as if from electric shock.

_Yes, this is Shibuya, after all. Of course he picked the right one…_ Murata bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, steeled himself. Then ever so slowly, he opened his eyes again. Tears poured down his cheeks.

"Hello, Tiallee," Murata whispered. "I… missed you." _In both senses of the word. I missed your company. And I missed your soul in my incomplete 'solution'…_ Murata sobbed, softly, once. Then he slid down the wall to the floor, collapsing to wracking, soul-shuddering sobs.

Yuuri knelt down in alarm beside him, looking frantically around the room for help.

But Manfred was already on his way, leaving Garena to the care of Wolfram and Efram. The healer squatted down in front of Murata, putting one hand on his shoulder, the other quickly strafing above his body head to toe, to sense the young man's physical and energetic state. "What's this, then?" he said calmly.

"Reunion with an old friend, I think," said Yuuri, indicating the baby in his arms.

"Ah," said Manfred. He sank down to a more stable seated position next to Murata, an arm over his shoulder, drawing the young man's head to cry on Manfred's chest. Manfred gestured for Yuuri to give over the faun into his other arm. "Well, Sage, he's happy and healthy now. A fresh life before him. Ah, no, excuse me, before _her_. You're a baby girl, aren't you, dear one? And such pretty brown curls. Oh! I think I saw a glimmer of her eyes for a moment there. I think she's going to have big beautiful brown eyes to go with those brown curls."

Manfred continued prattling on calmly and inanely, appreciating one after another feature of the baby faun, seemingly paying no mind to Murata's meltdown against his chest. Yuuri settled down cross-legged, giving moral support as Murata's best friend –in either world, aside from his wife Giesela. Gradually Murata's sobs died back, and his eyes tracked Manfred's soothing litany of baby praises. Before long, Murata was the one holding the baby.

"He was –" Murata began.

"Ah, none of that!" Manfred cut across this, kindly but firmly. "_She. Is_." Mazoku – all Mazoku, demon, faun, or otherwise – disapproved of openly discussing the past lives of others. If you recognized an old friend, well enough. If you had a problem to solve and wished to share a memory of yourself, fair enough – provided you weren't boasting. But to tell others about someone _else's_ past lives, was wrong. Every life was a fresh start, a blank slate. Decisions made in review of the last life, might make a soul the complete opposite in personality in the next life. One's bitterest enemy dying, only to be reborn as one's own child, was a commonplace.

Murata nodded, relieved. _Yes, there's no need to explain._ "Welcome back to the world, little girl faun," he said. "You'll make some faun family very happy."

"Hmm," said Manfred, leaning back against the wall, no longer ministering to Murata at all. Murata seemed back in control of himself, and happily offering up perfectly normal adoration of hooves and miniature digits and mesmerizing toothless yawns. Manfred said to Yuuri, "We've been in this nursery for over an hour. Perhaps we should mosey on soon."

From the path of Manfred's eyes, Yuuri suspected he was recommending a group mental health measure, more than any boredom-relieving change of scenery. "Yes," Yuuri concurred, getting up and brushing off his pants. This was just habit – the nursery staff made sure one could eat off that floor. "In fact, Murata, we haven't had a chance to debrief yet from our … adventures. With the late Franklin von Trondheim, wasn't it? You asked me to construct a timeline – I have that for you in my room."

Manfred relieved Murata of the baby faun and passed her off to a happy young elf nurse. Given the progression of their alcoholism, younger elves tended to be the more capable ones.

"Good," said Murata. "Ah, Manfred-sensei? You have a medical kit with you, of course?" Manfred nodded. "A vial of Shinou's fountain water, perhaps?"

"Of course," agreed Manfred, "Bielenfeld temple and Shinou's temple vials, both. My kit's in my room, a few doors down from Yuuri's." This treatment rarely worked miracles in Shin Makoku anymore. But Manfred was devout, and exhorted his students to be tireless in their pursuit of spiritual growth. And of all possible treatments, a simple dab of water never did any harm to the child, and often did a great deal to comfort frantic parents. Folkways had it that Shinou water baptism ensured that, even if the child perished, his soul was safe with Shinou. Which was exactly backwards from the original truth, but ritual had a kind of truth of its own.

Manfred and Yuuri told their husbands where they were off to, and left with Murata. Wolfram elected to stick with Garena and Efram for a bit, and added Greta to the group, to let the adolescents give them a tour of Trond Hall. Aldrich and Alana were off to Alana's office for a bit. Erick and his lieutenants had already left on some business. Yozak had already briefed Conrad and Brendan on what he'd learned from Jessup about Murata. Jessup and Yozak and Hasgrud had agreed to split the Murata watch into three shifts and share all info, and it was Jessup's turn. So Yozak ended up with the boys, bound for the snow sculpture playground, Conrad elected to join Garena's group, and Brendan decided to track down Erick or Jessup, to get an update on the political situation, with the passes and refugees and terrorists, and developing fallout from the Boom Falls mass ghost conversion.

Murata told Manfred and Yuuri as little as he could get away with – there was too much information, too few answers to make disgorging it all worthwhile. He skimmed scholar Raisa's timeline briefly, more to see what material was there than to digest it. Then Yuuri with Morgif at his belt, Murata equipped with his sheaf of research and Shinou fountain water, both vials, they went to track down either Alana or Erick. These were both in their offices, Erick with someone belligerant, and Alana having a pleasant visit over joint business accounts with Aldrich. So they chose Alana first.

"Excuse me, Lady Alana?" Murata asked, with a slight bow. Alana waved a hand to come in, still with no more than cool courtesy for the Bedamned Great Sage. "I have an experiment to perform, and was wondering if you would volunteer. This probably won't work, but… It's always worth a try, to see if the easy solution will do. Might I ask… are you an alcoholic, by any chance?"

"Never had a drink in my life," said Alana. Murata's face fell. She grudgingly continued, "Because my father was a drunk. He stayed sober enough on the battlefield. But he was a binge drinker at home… My last memory of him, he smacked me across the room. When we learned of his execution in Shin Makoku, and with that as our final farewell… My brother and I made a solemn vow to never touch the stuff."

Alana and her brother, founding members of the 'von Trondheim' Aristocrats, were the late Queen of Trondheim's children by her brilliant warlord, a half elf. The twenty-fifth Maou had chosen the youths to rule, of all the possible nobles, exactly because they were mixed-bloods, embodying several of the peoples of Trondheim, rather than the dominant trolls. Though the Queen lied, when she told the Maou that these, of her many children, were quarter trolls. They were actually half trolls, small because of their strong elf blood. There would be no apology for this lie – it worked.

They were the only two of the Queen's children permitted to live.

Yuuri knew of these things – now. He'd boned up on the history of the Great Troll and Goblin War, during the Racial Accords conference, on the _'better late than never'_ principle. But reading a book was _very_ different from facing a demoted princess in person, whose own royal family had been executed by Yuuri's predecessor as Maou. He and Murata gulped.

In a pleasant tone and expression so false they glittered with ice, Alana inquired, "And what is this experiment, Sage?"

"Ah, well, I'd like to try a simple way to perform the ghost-reintegration that Shibuya – ah, the Maou – did, to your son, and to the others at Boom Falls." Alana continued staring at him. "It's a simple procedure. I just dab your forehead with a little water –"

"If that's water from Accursed Shinou's temple, you can shove it up your ass," suggested Alana.

"Ah…" said Yuuri.

Aldrich, still lounging in an armchair by his mother's desk, launched into Trondish, which Yuuri couldn't follow, and Manfred and Murata tactfully feigned not to. Aldrich started out with due deference, but the tone of the discussion rapidly escalated into the mutually abusive range. In fact, it was extraodinarily rare to hear Trondish spoken that way, troll manners valuing sweet pleasantry as they did. After about five minutes of this, Alana stormed out, whipping Yuuri and Murata across the thighs with a sharp swish of leather skirt as she passed.

"Mother's gone to fetch a volunteer," Aldrich oversimplified in translation. "May I ask, what's the theory behind this experiment?" Murata rushed an explanation, and the several followup measures he had in mind if the first experiment failed.

"I probably should have discussed the theory with her first," said Murata. "Maybe when she comes back, we could backtrack."

"Perhaps when she's in a better mood," suggested Aldrich blandly. "Beginning with her father was… unfortunate."

Murata and Yuuri nodded glumly. Alana returned, in somewhat better humor – or repaired acting skill – with an older woman who seemed to be of a similar racial composition. "Please meet Shaman Scholar Ilsa. Ilsa, Maou Yuuri and the – Murata. Murata wants to touch an alcoholic with Shinou blessing water and see if it cures them of being an alcoholic."

"Reintegrate their ghost self into the soul self," Manfred corrected. "No one has been _cured_ of being an alcoholic. Soul reintegration simply makes it easier to stay sober." Manfred feared he was going to repeat this lecture a lot, and began to consider pithier ways of getting the point across.

Ilsa nodded willingness and lurched into the room, catching herself up against the desk. Aldrich rose and helped the drunken old woman into his chair. "Whadda I do?" she slurred. Aldrich and Manfred considered her unhappily. Soul reintegration wasn't likely to make any sudden changes in her blood alcohol level, either.

Murata said, "Just relax. I'm simply going to dab your forehead with some water." He tried the Bielenfeld fountain water first, to no effect, as expected. Then a dab of the Shinou temple water.

"Mm, that onez nice-sss," said Ilsa, and promptly fell asleep. Aldrich quickly bent to see if she were really asleep, or _'gone'_, as with the sufferers Wolfram had tended. But Ilsa started snoring. Alana beckoned some servants to drag her away to sleep it off somewhere else.

"Mother," said Manfred, thinking perhaps the novelty of bonding with her new son-in-law might soften her reception. "Although relieving active alcoholism is a major inspiration… For our _experiment,_ it might be better to have an alcoholic – or any other part-troll – who isn't drunk just now. Um, Erick… as an example. The actually-drunk part will just muddy the results."

Alana had been married to a von Bielenfeld empiricist and healer long enough to follow this logic, and she did want a smooth relationship with Manfred. She nodded and headed off to find a more suitable volunteer. Erick wandered in, to find out what was going on. _Aldrich_ explained the experiment this time, and that there were follow-up experiments, the strongest of which was sure to work. But they needed to find someone willing to try the fountain water first. He presented this as a question of public health logistics – vials of water being a great deal easier to administer to the whole population of Trondheim than, for instance, the Maou in person with a crisis team of healers.

"Well, I'm certainly game for the backup measures," agreed Erick. "But Shinou water… Let's see who Aunt Alana rounds up first." He stayed to watch, though.

Alana came back with one of Friedrich's mating treatment test subjects, a quarter troll named Fyodor. She apologetically informed him that he'd been receiving a placebo – she'd checked – and would no longer be involved in that study. She gave him a shaman's blessing, no pheromones. Murata tried Bielenfeld water. No effect. Then Shinou water.

Fyodor frowned slightly. "Interesting," he said. "May I have the counter-blessing now, My Lady?" She gave it. They caught the gist, that she was promptly purifying him of having been sullied by something blasphemous. Only then was Fyodor willing to speak further. "That was, um, refreshing. Like… I dunno. How a nice bath with good company can restore you after an unpleasant week at work, and now you're facing the weekend fresh. Does that help?"

"Yes, thank you, very helpful," said Murata. "Ah, could we continue with some followup experiments, please, Fyodor? The rest… don't involve anything… objectionable. Next the Maou will simply touch you – no Shinou blessing or anything." It was _exactly_ a _'Shinou blessing'_, but he lied anyway. "You could just shake hands."

Tronds didn't shake hands, they waved. But this was only slightly awkward. Yuuri let go, and asked, "Any reaction to that, Fyodor?"

"No."

"OK. Next, is it possible to call the ghost – the light wolf – of this man, Lady Alana?" asked Murata.

"In broad daylight?" she asked. "Well, we could try." They trooped up to her dining room, Friedrich and Tariel and Guya joining them along the way. The von Trondheims called the ghosts. Three light wolves arrived, and clamped onto Alana, Erick, and Fyodor. Murata looked about to get picky, but Alana said, "Proceed, please."

So Yuuri pulled out Morgif and had him swallow the three light wolves. Four more wolves suddenly darted into the room and into Morgif's mouth. Seven soul spheres came out, the four uninvited guests escaping immediately, out the roof door. Aldrich had watched those carefully – they looked like Erick's, a bronzier tinge of silver than the ones for Alana and Fyodor. It was easier to see the bronze tinge in soul ball form, but it had been in Erick's light wolf, too.

As with the Boom Falls crowd, Yuuri asked them each to reclaim the sphere before them. All three did. And all three crumpled to their knees. Erick continued to fall completely to the floor, _'gone'_, Guya catching and cradling him. Fyodor had a reaction similar to Aldrich's, strongly moved, but not really needing assistance. Murata knelt by him for moral support, but let Fyodor pull himself together. Alana fell apart crying, shrieking sobs. Friedrich knelt to her in a hurry, cradling his much-larger wife to his chest and gentling her. Aldrich, assured that his father was taking care of his mother, made sure Yuuri and Fyodor were alright. Manfred knelt to call Erick back from wherever he'd _'gone'._

Erick came to, and enveloped Manfred in a hug. He kissed Manfred's cheek and whispered, "I never thanked you enough, for how you took care of me at the Institute, and helped me leave there with dignity and come back to work the mails with Guya. I owe you a great debt for that, Manfred-sensei. Thank you."

"You're still welcome," murmured Manfred. "You did thank me at the time."

"Yes, but I just…" Erick struggled for words, "felt a rush of gratitude, that I hadn't expressed back then?"

Manfred nodded, and let Erick go, to be mutually enfolded with Guya instead.

Erick's sentence at the Bielenfeld Institute to pursue a nobility degree when he was 45, soon on the heels of his mother's death from alcoholism, had been an abysmal failure. Franklin intended him to live at the Castle under Aldrich's supervision, and bond with other nobility students, like Sylvain von Tarkenburg, now Lord Donaghie. But Erick was deep in an adolescent roiling rage. He didn't want to be there. He missed his beloved Guya, worried for his sister Vedanya. He couldn't adjust to lighted rooms, suffered from sunstroke, couldn't ride a horse, couldn't fit in, argued with his professors, got drunk every night, got into fight after fight, verbal with the teachers, physical with everyone else.

He moved to Manfred's cottage, to escape the commute in blinding daylight, in a nauseating jouncing carriage, an hour and a half each day. Manfred helped him negotiate some compromises, respected his right to a thoroughly dark cellar to hide in, welcomed Guya whenever she visited, helped him learn to refute his teachers with dignity, and helped him argue his case with his father, to go home. Within the year, he was back in Trondheim, partners with Guya, delivering mail – a highly athletic endeavor in Trondheim. Most youths took on that unpaid public service for at least 5 years. Erick's uncle Ted worked the mail for 15 years before the military, and Erick stuck with it for 20. Fighting ice and snow, rockslides and wild animals, and serving people directly, was an education better suited to him. It let him work through his rage, and grow into responsibility, and then leadership.

Fyodor was sharing some realizations with Murata and Aldrich. Alana was gradually calming in her husband's tender arms.

Yuuri walked over to Tariel, who perched quietly in a chair. "Tariel?" he asked. "You see the problem. This is a gift I want to give to all my subjects in Trondheim, something… owed. Something taken by accident, that must be returned. But this method, it's too cumbersome, too disruptive. And if I'm the only one who can do it… I don't have the time. I know that you don't like being used as a fortune-teller. But…"

Tariel nodded. "There is a way. But… there is an acceptance problem. I tell Friedrich. You let Friedrich gain the acceptance. Then there is a way." Tariel got off the chair and added a mild warning. "Murata shouldn't talk much."

Yuuri nodded wry agreement. He walked over to Murata and asked him to not discuss the ghost problem again until Yuuri gave him leave. With some people, this request would be an exercise in futility. But Murata was naturally more inclined to be close-lipped anyway.

Tariel knelt down by Friedrich and touched Alana's forehead briefly. Then he put his arms around Friedrich, and communicated all nonverbally, in the wood nymph way that Friedrich still understood, but couldn't articulate anymore.

Friedrich nodded thanks. He said to the room in general, "I think we all need time to consider the results of this experiment and regroup. Most of us will be travelling within the hour, and should focus on getting ready for this evening. Fyodor, thank you. If you have any trouble as a result of this afternoon's work, please come see me anytime. Guya, please help Erick be ready for our trip. I'll be doing the same with Alana. Aldrich, Manfred, if you could keep Tariel company? Come, Alana dear, let's go back to our room and get ready, shall we?"

They all filed out, Yuuri with a final smile and reassuring shoulder-squeeze to Murata, thanking him for his efforts, reaffirming his confidence in his friend. It helped.

Murata sat down to think and study Raisa's research notes, the timeline of the ghost manifestation phenomena unfolding in Trondheim. Murata's own notes on Efram's spell, that had killed ten trolls in an instant on the Fens of Krist, had not been returned to him. He trusted Friedrich had burned them. But he remembered the details well enough.

The afternoon's experiment had by no means been a failure. He'd clearly established what he expected – that even if there was a fountain-type solution, the old fountains wouldn't work. There was that second part…

-oOo-

Many years passed. Shinou set Daikenja aside as a lover, though the wistful Daikenja stayed ever close, his constant advisor. It was only in retrospect that Daikenja realized that Shinou had done this to hide the progression of the malaise in his hand, the hand that had drawn a vast X across the sky with Morgif, to divide the roiling power that was Soushu into four pieces.

The X that cut northeast to southwest, northwest to southeast.

The blade had sucked all the power that was Soushu out of the world, and into four boxes, using the body of his beloved Shinou as a conduit. The X that came just minutes after the 'resonance' spell so like Efram's, which magnified, doubling and redoubling, to arc from victim to victim, using special race-specific overdrives they'd thought harmless to demons. It began with the puppet shells of King Vladimir's heroic army, and from that resonant start, the spell exploded out over the lands which became the new country of Shin Makoku.

They'd known the spell would have great power, arcing from puppet to puppet. They'd devised it specifically to make use of the special maryoku nature that was troll. They were guilty of exactly the targeted genocide that the Tronds accused them of. But Shinou and Daikenja had never dreamed that the resonance could escape the limits of the battlefield, to take out the whole people as well as the puppets, and arc to other races. Any mention of that spell, the majutsu mechanics of that horror, was suppressed. Not even Erhard Wincott documented it, in his secret history. Though one brief entry remained, in the secret Bielenfeld Empiricists' Bible, written in Prince Rufas' own hand, a grave warning.

As the malaise stole over Shinou, Soushu began leaking out. On Shinou's weaker nights, light wolves roamed the land and terrorized the people. Shinou at last confided in his friend. The interrment of demon souls into the fountains had indeed relieved Shinou's multitude-in-the-head problem greatly – but not completely. Different races bore different maryoku signatures, right down to their souls. Demon souls carried relatively little of the maryoku of life. Wood nymph souls were almost nothing but.

Tariel survived by a fluke of his misfortune. Daikenja's interests as a sage were wide-ranging. With the terror of Soushu advancing over the world, few others had noticed that the dogwood trees – _'Tariel'_ in the old elvish, and who, given a choice, would introduce himself by the name _'Dogwood'_? – were failing of a blight on this continent. Only isolated ornamentals remained, in sheltered gardens, too far from other members of their species for the disease to reach them. And dogwood wasn't a very popular ornamental.

The disease had long passed now. Dogwood graced all the forests again, propagated by Tariel himself. But at the time, Tariel trees were too tiny, too widely spaced, for the the resonance to build large enough to arc across the distances between them. And Tariel's personality had been within the phenomenal shields that saved Tanya Troll Mother. Dogwood happened to be Tanya's favorite tree. The two had been friends.

Daikenja hadn't understood the nature of the light wolves then. He only dimly grasped that the Enemy Soushu's power was drawn from life itself, rather than majutsu or houjutsu. So he'd done his best to seal all of it into Shinou's temple above Blood Pledge Castle, when he interred the vast composite soul that was now Shinou and Soushu.

But life is a creative force, not a passive element like wind and fire, earth and water, and the other ingredients that made up the Mazoku souls of all the races. Life always finds a way. It pokes and prods, experiments, fails, and tries again with a will. Shinou's temple had never really, fully been able to seal or control the living identities that still existed within the Shinou-Soushu-Maou-plex.

Murata needed a different kind of fountain. Fortunately, it seemed Ilya von Trondheim was studying just this question. He was sure _that_ was the acceptance problem Tariel had told him to stay away from, and leave to Friedrich. Ilya had been disowned by the von Trondheim family for her ideas. And it was hard to imagine anyone _less_ likely to help her case for reconciliation, than the Bedamned Great Sage.

-oOo-

"Garena gets a hair cut," replied Tariel, when Manfred and Aldrich asked him how he wished to spend an hour. "He is in the Kraken bath." As usual, Tariel offered neither explanation nor excuse.

So Manfred led him to the Kraken bath, while Aldrich ducked back to their room to pick up their outdoor clothes and repack the medical kit. He gazed thoughtfully at the Bielenfeld temple fountain vial, before tucking it away.

Aldrich had once tossed Suzanna Julia von Wincott into the Bielenfeld temple fountain.

Aldrich, then as now, was an adjunct professor of unconditional love, with the healing faculty at the Bielenfeld Institute. After Manfred was injured in Mizrat, having such trouble dealing with his grief rage, and his rapidly deteriorating relationship with Cecilie and his step-sons, Suzanna Julia had stepped in and convinced Cecilie to throw Manfred back to Bielenfeld, with as little consideration as she'd waste on potato peelings. Then later, when she learned from her tearful cousin Glynda, Aldrich's mentally ill wife, that Manfred and Aldrich had become lovers, Sujie had schemed again, until Manfred was forced to live at the Institute or lose his rights to Wolfram. His relationship with Aldrich, which was so healing for both of the desperately troubled men, was forced underground.

Aldrich had complained bitterly to von Gratz-sensei, Manfred's predecessor as chair of healing. This brutally self-centered little _bitch_ wasn't fit to help a _dog_ have puppies, much less fit to treat _people_ as a healer. Von Gratz sentenced the pair of them to three gruelling years, Aldrich tutoring her in the healing use of applied love. He didn't tell Manfred, of course. His tutoring students were confidential, their referral to him being due to… _character deficiency_.

Sujie's own short life as a self-centered spoiled _princess_ offering little practical experience to draw on, Aldrich had tried to get her to delve into her soul's past lives to develop her empathy, to no avail. She couldn't remember any. She'd barely passed on her _sixth_ attempt at the unconditional love examination. She was told in no uncertain terms, that despite great healing talent, she was suited only to work as a battlefield hack. She should leave the recovery phase to healers with… _tact_. Or, _compassion._ Or, _understanding_.

But that wasn't when he threw her into the fountain.

A few years later, after she'd lost her eyesight, they got to arguing again over Glynda's treatment options, while Sujie visited them at the Castle. Sujie may have learned to behave better with patients – or not – but she brutalized Aldrich in this conversation, with no consideration _at all_ for the fact that Aldrich had _feelings_ for his wife in her affliction.

What did _he_ care whether Glynda was treated at home in the Castle, or in a residential program at the Institute? Surely Aldrich didn't need _Glynda_ as an excuse to run and hide in Manfred's bed? Surely he could find a pretty boy to give him just as good a _blowjob_ here in Castetown. Or was Aldrich's missing _arm_ cramping his style at picking up one night stands? And so on.

Aldrich just cracked. He didn't tell her where they were going. He just dragged the blind girl to the temple – by the hair at one point. Then he threw her in. She dragged herself out on hands and knees. She'd sobbed for an hour.

Suzanna Julia's personality completely turned around after that day. She became famous for her kindess and compassion, grew into a master healer in every way. The two of them still avoided each other wherever possible. When Aldrich heard the once-obnoxious little _twit_ had been selected as the next Maou, he gagged. But he granted that she _did_ seem to have changed. He attributed this to her sobbing bout, like a sodden broken ragdoll, a puddle on the floor of the temple fountain. He thought she'd finally mastered the necessary core of humility, in the process of accepting her own blindness.

It had never occurred to him that it might have been the _fountain_ at work.

Had the von Wincotts stopped baptizing their children at both fountains? Could Glynda herself… Aldrich gulped, and set the thought aside.

The Kraken baths were a huge multiracial open bath vault. Wolfram was of course the beautician of strongest opinion. He selected a haircut for Garena somewhere intermediate between Wolfram's and Friedrich's, longish at the back like Wolfram's, but fanning out around the temples and ears like Friedrich's. In the childlike beaded braids, Garena had looked just a bit too weird. But with that out of the way, the man was extraordinarily good looking, possibly even better looking than Manfred, though not nearly as sultry as Wolfram. When they dropped by to pay their respects to the little fauns again, the nurses flirted with him. Before, they'd given him a wide berth. And to his young relatives' surprise, Garena flirted back, not… terribly. He smiled when they smiled, dropped his eyes when they did. While not particuarly suave or sophisticated, his little mirror game… worked, as flirting.

Change was good.

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

_Please review?_


	11. Trondheim, RAH!

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 11 – Trondheim, _RAH!_**

Trond Hall had a staging auditorium by the stables, a large room with seating for around fifty people, with hot beverage and snack service, and plenty of open space for gear. This was standing room only by the time Yuuri's group arrived, ready to head out to the Fairy Circle with Tariel, to harvest more treeborn babies. They congregated by the giant stable doors to await Lord Erick and Lady Alana, who arrived together with Guya and Hasgrud, Jessup and Friedrich, and mounted a dais.

"Trondheim, _RAH!_" called out Erick, mitted left fist raised above above his head on the _RAH!_ The crowd enthusiastically replied in kind. "Thank you for coming! A great turnout of volunteers, _RAH!"_ _Rah! _ "We won't need all of you, but since you're here," the crowd laughed, "I want you to meet some _very_ special guests! Yuuri Maou, our king from down below, is visiting. My liege?"

Erick held out a hand to beckon Yuuri to join him on the dais. A grinning Guya started slowly stomping her feet – Trond applause – and the rest of the dais joined in, followed by the crowd, so far a bit half-heartedly. As Yuuri walked over, Erick continued. "Yuuri Maou gave us protection, equal under the law to the lowland demons! Yuuri Maou healed the souls of over two _hundred_ Tronds! _RAH!_ Yuuri Maou gave us the miracle of six _faun_ babies, the first in a century, and more to come! _RAH! _We have resented the overlordship of Shin Makoku." Stomping stopped. The Tronds really did resent Shin Makoku. Erick looked around the room, nodding solemnly. "And I say _no more_. Today I am _proud_ to be vassal to – _Yuuri Maou! RAH!_" Yuuri was beside him now, raised fist just like Erick's, and the applause was thunderous.

"Next guest!" continued Erick, beckoning Murata. Murata headed toward the dais with vast reluctance, the crowd glowering at him. "We have called him the Bedamned Great Sage. We blamed him for the unquiet ghosts of our ancestors. We cursed his name! But fellow Tronds, this man has _met_ our ancestors. He walked with my father Franklin and the great King Vladimir of old, searching for answers! He did not know! He did not know. Two _hundred_ ghosts have been healed so far, and more to come! Friends, it's time we welcomed _home_ our own! This is not _Shin Makoku's _Bedamned Great Sage. I give you – _Trondheim's own _ Greatest Sage, _Murata Ken! RAH!_" It was a little slow coming as the crowd thought this over, but the stomping applause built to a crescendo, as Erick nodded at them, smiling, a dimple in one cheek. The young man really was extraordinarily handsome, and he knew how to use it.

"Next, my brother Lords!" Erick didn't beckon them to the dais, simply pointing to the group by the stable door. "Working with us tonight, first our own Aldrich von _Trondheim_ Lord Bielenfeld, _RAH!_ Next, protector of humans, of dragons, bane of criminals who would prey on Mazoku throughout the world, our friend Conrad Lord Weller, _RAH! _Plus, our good neighbor and ally to the north, Brendan Lord Gratz, _RAH!_" The welcome from the crowd was warm and enthusiastic.

"And last and rarest of all, friends, a special treat. We have with us tonight the last and greatest of the wood nymphs, _Tariel, RAH!_ Tariel, the master of dragons, _RAH!_ Tariel, who averted a repeat of the Great War! He forced both Maou and Troll Mother to surrender before it began! _RAH! _And Tariel's two sons, Garena, and Friedrich von Bielenfeld, _RAH!_"

The crowd gave their all, cheering the wood nymphs. True, Garena and Tariel foresaw it coming, dispassionately. But it was not a dispassionate experience, to be cheered so, the hall thundering with stomping feet, palpable waves welcome and admiration buffeting at them from this crowd of enthusiastic volunteers. It was… moving.

"We will not all go tonight. But here or there, before or after, all have helped. I thank you, and ask you thank each other, _RAH!_ Trolls, _RAH!_ Ogres, _RAH!_ Elves, _RAH! _Goblins, _RAH!_ Demons, _RAH!_ Fauns, _RAH!_ Wood nymphs, _RAH!_ All for one, and one for all! _Shamshesh alte'in, TRONDHEIM, RAH!_"

And without a pause, Erick grabbed Yuuri's left hand and hopped backward off the dais. They strode down the middle aisle, Erick walking backwards to bump right shoulders with the crowd to one side, Yuuri bumping right shoulders on the other side, in the mountain folk high-five. Alana, also backwards, drew Friedrich the same way to the right aisle, Hasgrud taking Murata to the left. Guya and Jessup, much smaller, strode to the back of the hall bench to bench, boffing shoulders with the crowd in the middle.

"_Damn,_ I love doing that!" laughed Erick, when he reached the back. "Alright, what's the drill…" He counted heads. "And thirty babies tonight is it? Twenty in this party if we take Jessup…"

"Was that a Trondheim thing?" Yuuri asked wonderingly.

Guya laughed. "Nah, that was an _Erick_ thing. What a ham!" She was clearly pleased and proud of him, though.

Manfred shook his head. "A nobility degree would have been _wasted_ on this kid," he murmured in admiration. Aldrich and Conrad, Brendan and Wolfram, nodded, envious of Erick's public speaking. Even Aldrich, reknowned as a man who could sell snow to Tronds, couldn't come close to Erick at working a crowd.

"Over one hundred babies tonight," said Tariel, correcting Erick. The group stopped and stared at him.

Erick's eyebrows flew up, then he frowned, reconsidering his supply of ambulance sleighs. He didn't like to leave Trond Hall itself under-equipped. Their emergency staff handled the entire valley, the elevator, and the last gondola valley as well, plus the next valley toward Royal Gorge in the other direction.

Tariel hesitantly added, "Tonight is major sabotage at last gondola, all ropes. Injuries. We take nineteen people to Fairy Circle, one sleigh only. Most babies are born at _near_ ridge, not Fairy Circle. We signal for other sleighs on the way back."

Erick stood stock-still. Friedrich and Garena looked at each other in consternation. _Wood nymph do not intercede this much. This is dangerous_.

"How do I stop the sabotage of the last gondola?" demanded Erick.

"You do not," said Tariel. "Cannot stop."

"I'll stay and help with the gondola accident victims," said Friedrich. Manfred and Wolfram looked about to volunteer as well.

"No…" said Tariel, "I want you with me…" Those who knew Tariel well, could tell that he was scanning for a future that came out the way he wanted, then nodded as he found it. "Yes. I send Garena, with a dragon, later. None die. Jessup stays."

Tariel vanished for a minute. Then he reappeared in front of the astonished demon Jessup. He told Jessup how to prepare for the imminent gondola disaster. They would signal from the ridge behind Trond Hall in maybe 6 or 7 hours, when they wanted nursery sleighs, but only send those he could spare, because the trip was short from the ridge – several trips would be fine. Jessup stood amazed, drinking in the strange orders from this diminutive wood nymph. But Erick was listening intently, and at the end, nodded agreement. Jessup should do as Tariel advised.

Then Tariel simply walked out into the stable, in bare feet and sleeveless shift, and climbed into a large sleigh. Aldrich had fetched proper outerwear for both Tariel and Garena, and brought it to the Kraken baths. Garena had put them on, but Tariel declined. The rest piled in, Hasgrud taking the driver's seat. And they were off into the late afternoon sun.

"Tariel, I was surprised you spoke of the gondola," murmured Friedrich, nestled between his nymph-parent and his wife. "Why?" Garena, on Tariel's other side, looked on intently as well.

Tariel didn't answer, instead saying to Aldrich, "First stop, your trees on the ridge." Aldrich gave directions to Hasgrud.

Erick and Brendan and Conrad ended up taking over the conversation, filling in the others on what had been going on at Trond Hall and with the passes lately. With the possibility of dragon help on the way, Ted had decided to backtrack and work on repairs to the farther bridge of the Kriegsbad Pass first, and come back to Royal Gorge, a nasty bit of work, above a ravine over 2,000 feet deep. They'd written to von Dienst and Gwendal, and Gegen Huber Bruschella just below the Escarpment, and Vedanya and the Stovemuessens at the foot of the Gratz Pass, requesting assistance with securing the passes and the immigrants, but there hadn't been time yet for any replies.

Several times over the course of the discussion, Yuuri turned to Tariel, only to have his question die on his lips. The wood nymph was snuggled under Friedrich's arm, bare toes curled in Garena's lap, looking for all the world uninterested in anything those around him said. Yuuri suspected this was highly unlikely. But Tariel had – for him – gone out of his way to future-read for them already today to an extraordinary degree. Yuuri chose to respect the nymph's silence, rather than be a pest.

Just past the top of the ridge, by the stand of trees Aldrich had indicated, they stopped the sleigh, for Tariel and Garena to get out and walk around. If they discussed anything, it was nonverbally. They touched a number of trees, then walked into an open area and looked around, Garena's boots crunching through the virgin snow, Tariel leaving small bare footprints. Then they climbed back into their same seating arrangement with Friedrich in the sleigh, both very subdued.

-oOo-

"Lord's Lesson!" declared Trenton, once they were back underway. The other kids jumped at that suggestion – Trenton and Dietrich's _'Lord's Lesson'_ game was a lot of fun. Actually, it was neither theirs, nor a game. The Lords of Bielenfeld had been training their kids this way for thousands of years. They posed an interesting question from the day's challenges after supper, and let the heirs mull it over. But the children didn't think of it as _'school'_. And sometimes their suggestions were implemented as real public policy. They liked that!

"Alright, Trent," agreed his father Brendan. "What's our question?"

"One hundred babies," said Trenton. "Is one hundred a good number? And if we get to choose, how many of which kinds shall we ask for?" The adults nodded impressed approval – very good question. "Lord Conrad? Lord Erick? Would one of you like to teach us tonight?"

Both men looked flattered, if slightly intimidated. This sleigh was jam-packed with top rulership talent. They felt outclassed by Friedrich, Alana, Brendan, Aldrich, Yuuri, Murata, even Manfred and Wolfram. But they agreed to co-chair the Lesson.

Greta started off. "Trond Hall can't take many more than 100 babies at once. These are special babies we don't really know how to care for. The 100 could be like an appetizer, just a start, to give all the dwindling communities hope. But we don't want to overwhelm them."

"Yeah," agreed Dietrich. "They're moving to a new place. They need to make new homes and new friends. A few babies is a promise. Too many all at once would be too hard."

"What if some are already extinct?" asked Efram. "Somebody mentioned centaurs. There are no centaurs to adopt a baby centaur, are there? Are there even people who remember centaurs?"

"I do," said Murata, quietly. "As Daikenja, I was raised among the centaurs and the fauns. I think the fauns are best suited to rear them."

Yozak pitched in. "What if there are babies of a race no one wants?" The kids booed him down. There was _somebody_ for _any_ baby. They would_ all_ be wanted! But that did get them talking about how it would be decided, who got what baby, and who would be a good enough parent to get a baby.

Erick and Conrad sat back and let the kids have at it on this issue. Conrad prodded Greta or Efram with a toe once in a while, when they started talking to each other instead of treating the younger boys as equal partners.

Eventually Greta said, "Well, at least wood nymphs are easy, because Tariel is the only foster parent. Tariel, how many wood nymph babies would you like?"

"No nymph babies," replied Garena, when Tariel didn't acknowledge the question. Everyone looked to him for an explanation of this, but Garena just shrugged. "Wood nymphs, field nymphs, water nymphs, no _'babies'_."

"Dragons should have eggs instead of babies," Wolfram announced, to get Garena off the hot seat. "Right, Yuuri? Dragon babies get very attached to the first person they meet out of the egg. Liesel thought Yuuri was her mother."

"Pochi," Yuuri corrected automatically – his name for the dragon Liesel. "But, yes, they need to be adopted as eggs. Garena, you're going to meet with dragons tonight, aren't you? Perhaps you could ask how many eggs they can handle."

"That depends on place to raise baby dragons," said Garena, looking at Erick and Conrad. "Dragon takes big territory."

Erick nodded thoughtfully. "I'd meant to talk to them about that, when they come to help with the passes. There's a lot of room in these mountains, plenty of remote places where their nests would be safe. And Tronds got quite fond of having them here. If they're willing to keep the passes open, and help with mountain rescue, they'd be very welcome Trond citizens. But, we'd need translators. And I'm not sure how much room they need. Conrad, say we wanted to settle dragons along Gratz Pass, Kriegsbad Pass, and the Escarpment. Is that… feasible?"

"Certainly," said Conrad. "There's room for more than a dozen dragons near each of the Passes. Provided Brendan's willing, on the Gratz Pass, of course."

"Actually, that's a bit tricky, Conrad," said Brendan uncomfortably. "For Walde as well. I'd have to run the numbers to find out how much keeping Gratz Pass open is worth to us, versus how much livestock the dragons would eat. If we can even _get _dragons to honor a work for hire agreement. And there's no clear advantage for Walde. And once you pay the dragongeld, it could be mighty hard to get rid of the dragon."

"_Chichiue!_" complained Trenton, mortified at his father being a spoilsport.

"Nah, Trent, this isn't about being popular with our friends," said Brendan. "I'd like to help Erick and the dragons, too, but Gratz is ranchland. We owe it to our ranchers to make decisions that are good for Gratz. If Gratz Pass brings X income, and the dragons cost Y livestock, then X has to be bigger than Y, or it's bad for Gratz. This is Lord's Lesson, remember!"

The nymph-kin, especially Wolfram and Friedrich, looked very disappointed at this. Garena suggested, "Maybe offer four eggs now? And more eggs if have good agreement about work and eating livestock?"

"I will not hold eggs or babies hostage to financial agreements," Yuuri stated firmly. "The question is _only_ how many they can comfortably raise _now_." He turned to the kids. "I've been enjoying this discussion. You've clarified my thinking on a lot of topics. But the thing that's most clear to me, is that we should _go slow_. Converting ghosts into free souls, ready to be reborn – this is owed, and I will do it to the limits of my ability. But to have all these ghosts turn into newborns – Murata, do we even know how many ghosts? Not the… light wolves, the partial souls, to be reunited with their incarnated souls. But the ones who cannot incarnate?"

"Thousands, probably tens of thousands," said Murata.

"A promise, then, as Greta and Dietrich said," Yuuri concluded. "New hope. A handful only, at this time, for most of the dwindling races. If we take it nice and slow, everyone has a chance to think things through, do the next right thing, make good decisions, prepare, work things out. Then the rest of the babies are born when there is a home and family ready to welcome them, and not before. And many of those souls will wait for babies to be born the usual way, as their races recover their numbers with fresh blood. Over _generations_, not days or months."

"Huh!" said Tariel. "You are right, Shibuya Yuuri Maou! Slow is much better…"

"You look much happier, Mother," said Friedrich, surprised. Tariel nodded emphatically, actually smiling, and snuggled into his arm, petting Garena's arm too. Both of his sons looked puzzled, but relieved.

Erick was nodding at Yuuri's points. But he added to the kids, "But the small groups of babies are for the small communities. It gets trickier with the big communities. Trolls, elves, ogres – these have battled their way back from extinction, from way too few people. They have large populations now, and huge problems from inbreeding. Even a promise to these would have to be in the tens, if not hundreds. I'd like to suggest at least twenty each – thirty would be better – of trolls, elves, and ogres."

"I thought ogres were extinct," said Wolfram. "But you mentioned them in your speech back at the hall, too."

"Erick's part ogre," murmured Alana. "A very wise move on Franklin's part." Most of the party were surpised at this, Aldrich downright astonished.

Erick looked as though he doubted her sincerity. He explained to Wolfram, "Troll Mother was pregnant at the time of the Genocide. Her son was fathered by the head of the northern ogres, in what's now Gratz. No pure ogres survived, just the one half-ogre. He refused to breed with his own mother. My mother's kin, and many in Gratz of _'troll'_ ancestry, are descended from him."

"How did…" began Yuuri, then changed to, "I thought a female troll could compel a male troll to mate with her. Did Troll Mother… respect his wishes?" Yuuri'd met Troll Mother. He couldn't imagine her driving will respecting _anyone's_ wishes, son or not.

Erick shook his head. "No. Trolls are powerless to compel ogres. That's why my father mated with one, and kept it a secret. He believed we von Trondheims should be able to defy Troll Mother, if her wishes weren't in the best interests of all Tronds. As they weren't, last spring. My father and Uncle Ted obeyed her – they were entrolled, and Father died of it. But she hadn't reckoned on this leaving her with a Lord Trondheim who wouldn't obey her. Lady Alana and myself and Elvenhall were all ready to defy her. But, if Tariel and the dragons hadn't intervened, this would have meant civil war in Trondheim."

"Hey," said Trenton, having finally puzzled this out. "Are you calling me an ogre?"

Erick grinned, showing a huge dimple and modest fangs. "I called _me_ an ogre. And proud of it, too." He tousled Trenton's head. "You're probably only the tiniest bit ogre, Trent."

"Are ogres tougher than trolls?" the boy asked hopefully.

"Just crankier," said Alana, sighing. "And immune to the, ah, issues dear Friedrich is here to research."

"Sex," clarified Dietrich, putting his hands over his ears in protest. "So _stop_. We were going to talk about _babies_, not sex. OK, twenty or thirty each of ogres, trolls, and elves."

-oOo-

Soon after dusk, they developed a following. First by ones and twos, then by tens, light wolves gathered to run beside them. When they stopped to greet the pickets Jessup had sent out, to keep spectators at a distance, their shaman reported that the extraordinary number of ghosts had been strangely quiet. By the time they reached the Fairy Circle, the entourage of ghosts was well beyond counting.

Brendan and Conrad and the four children set to making a good coal fire and a hot supper, Hasgrud and Yozak to taking care of the animals, while the others approached the trees. Aldrich showed Tariel first the tree he'd suspected of housing a wood nymph, but he nodded, and skipped that one, walking around touching each of the other trees instead.

"You have your baby order?" asked Tariel.

Yuuri held out the wish list that the children had devised, and the adults had approved with modifications. But there were a great deal more ghosts here than on that list, and the hope had been to call more babies from the other trees, he thought. "How do we submit our request?"

The small bare-limbed, bare-foot wood nymph padded slowly across the snow to that first tree, which he'd avoided the first time. The closer he got, the more his steps faltered. Garena and Friedrich walked up to stand with him, and held his hands. Tariel stood that way with them for several minutes, then seemed to gather his… either courage or resignation.

He walked to the tree and placed his hand on it, looking up into the branches.

"Oh," said a woman perhaps twenty feet tall, yawning. "Who wakes me in winter?" She looked around at eye height – on her – and finding no one, blinked sleepily and finally tried looking down at her feet.

"It's me, Tariel, Ponderosa," Tariel said reluctantly.

The vast wood nymph slowly shrank to only about a foot taller than Hasgrud and Erick. "Oh, Tariel! Heavens, little one, you're looking _much_ better! You were so sick!" She frowned, puzzled. "How did your trees recover in winter? And… but… there were only a handful left."

("Do you understand what they're talking about?" Yuuri murmured to Wolfram and Murata. Wolfram shook his head no. Murata nodded yes, but held a finger to his lips to suggest silence.)

Still groggy, Ponderosa looked around her, and complained, "There's something strange with this stand of trees, too. The trees have too much life maryoku, but also some kind of maryoku parasite. And all these life maryoku phantoms swarming about. And the trees are planted in stone! Who on earth would do such a thing?"

("I'm never going to live that down, am I," sighed Aldrich. Manfred laughed silently and hugged him closer.)

"My grandson, Aldrich," said Tariel, pointing at him.

Ponderosa followed the finger, whose path led to no comprehension whatsoever. "This is a very strange dream," she sighed, nodding to herself that she was right.

Tariel walked over to Aldrich, took his hand, and drew him back to Ponderosa. He repeated, "My grandson, Aldrich. This is Ponderosa." Tariel indicated the circle of trees with a wave of the hand. "Ponderosa pine. Ponderosa, you've been asleep for a long time. A _very_ long time. You notice that you wake up in an unfamiliar tree? You see that I am healthy again, too much healing for one winter? A very, _very_ long time."

Yuuri wondered why Tariel didn't just go ahead and say how long, but he didn't wonder long. Denial set in fast and furious upon Ponderosa. "You _wicked_ little _bracken_, Tariel!" Ponderosa scolded. "It's no wonder the great nymphs decided not to save you! A pathetic little _shrub_ like you should not have been called a _tree_ in the first place! Begone! I've had enough of your idiocy!" Ponderosa grew back to her original twenty foot height, and beyond, seeming to thin to vapor as she grew to the height of her towering tree. And she disappeared into it.

"I never like her," complained Tariel sadly.

Garena and Friedrich both put arms around him. He enjoyed their comfort for a moment, then removed their arms. "I see you back at the ridge." With that, Tariel walked into the tree and disappeared.

Along with all twelve of the Ponderosa pines. And the ghosts.

"Garena, what the hell is –" began Friedrich.

"I go to gondola now," said Garena. And he disappeared, too.

"What did we ride all the way out here for, then?" wondered Wolfram.

"So he could move the trees to a more convenient place?" hazarded Friedrich.

"Did you know he could do that, Chichi?" asked Aldrich.

"No," admitted Friedrich eventually. "There's a lot about this I don't understand."

-oOo-

Several hours later, the sleigh pulled up at the Fairy Circle again, newly relocated to the ridge above Trond Hall, and swarming with ghosts. If Tariel was there, he wasn't admitting to it, and Garena wasn't there either. After some deliberation, they decided to just go ahead and do what they set out to do in the first place – deliver the trees of the babies they still carried, half of them fauns.

Guya set off a flare to signal Jessup's people below to send a nursery sleigh if they could spare one. Erick was kicking himself for not bringing along some skis – he was desperate to find out the status of the gondola sabotage, if it had indeed happened at all. His confidence in strange Tariel tales was not high at the moment.

"You need to stay while the first batch is delivered, anyway," murmured Aldrich. The cooking and animal crew set to work again, and the others approached the trees with Aldrich, with plenty of blankets. Aldrich touched the one tree – Ponderosa's – again in curiosity, but simply said, "No change."

He delivered four more baby fauns.

Then he started in on the trees he'd skipped. A baby centaur. An elf. A troll. An ogre. A dragon's egg. "Erick, Guya, I need you," he called. The two left the elf and ogre baby back at the sleigh, where Friedrich was supervising the babysitters. "I believe this one's for you," said Aldrich, when they rejoined him.

And he delivered a bouncing baby boy elf-troll-ogre-demon-goblin baby. In far from equal proportions. In fact, the child looked exactly like one might expect a child of Guya and Erick's to look, right down to its sheer size, at over 15 pounds.

"What on –" breathed Erick. He took up the baby, and upon touching him, recognized the soul. "Welcome back," he told the baby with the soul of Franklin. "He's so tiny!" he laughed.

"What do you mean? He's _huge!_" said Guya. She unconsciously crossed her legs at the thought of such a giant baby coming out of _her_ tender places. She swaddled him quickly in a blanket and started for the sleigh, but Erick stopped her.

He tipped her head up to look him in the eye, and smiled, dimples at maximum. Guya looked down, as though blushing, then lifted head high and met him squarely in the eye. She said, "Lady Alana, may I have the blessing of your family to marry this man, your great-nephew Erick Lord Trondheim?"

Alana smiled. "You have the blessing of the family. I think your father would have approved, too, Erick," she said wryly. "May I hold the baby?"

Guya passed the baby over, and bid Erick kneel in the snow. "Marry me, Erick," she ordered.

"Yes, m'Lady!" he replied, with gusto. He rose and picked her up, swung her around, and shared a long, deep kiss. They were still well preoccupied with each other when the first sleigh arrived up from Trond Hall.

"Jophin, it's you!" cried Greta in surprise. "What are _you_ doing here?" For the sleigh was driven by none other than Jophin, leader of the goblin troop Greta had adopted in the Krist Fens last spring. He and his band of extremely helpful small people had been working the Blood Pledge Castle baths mostly, though they'd also tagged along up to Castle Bielenfeld to help out there during the Racial Accords conference.

"It _is!_" cried Jophin. "It _is_ me, Jophin, Princess Greta! I'm so happy to see you!"

Erick and Guya left off their smooching promptly when they heard the name Jophin. Both boffed Jophin's shoulder. Hasgrud told the newcomers on the sleigh the happy news that one of the tree babies looked exactly like an Erick-Guya baby and that the couple were going to marry. Jophin squealed with delight.

"So what _are_ you doing here, Jophin?" asked Erick, smiling.

"Ah, I came home with the troops, m'liege!" said Jophin. "General von Dienst sent you his commander Griesel and some men. But the gondola ropes broke! It was scary. But dragons came! And a blond man like him." Jophin pointed to Friedrich. "Except maybe younger. And we picked up some fauns in Bruschella. Fauns are very nice people!" Jophin nodded enthusiastic approval of the fauns. "And kobolds too! I think maybe they're nicer when they're not so scared. But goblins can take care of fauns and kobolds, you'll see!"

"I'll bet you will," said Erick, grinning. "Damn, it's good to have you back, Jophin!" And he and Guya and Hasgrud and Jophin lifted their fists in a unanimous _RAH!_

"You know our bath attendents?" asked Greta.

"Jophin's my fourth lieutenant – my goblin troubleshooter. He's just been on extended duty down below. Right, Jophin?"

Jophin nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! They're very chatty in the baths at Yuuri Maou's castle. Especially at night. Lord Günter von Krist is very kind! Every night he makes a cauldron of vodka punch. All his friends come to get drunk and screw! I think our elves would like this down-below custom! I think our elves would invite girls, too, though."

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

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	12. The Return of the Nymphs

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 12 – The Return of the Nymphs**

It was nearing midnight when Aldrich delivered the last of the tree babies from Morgif's previous ghost conversions at the Fairy Circle and Boom Falls – the accidental ones, not the children's considered baby order. There were 32 new babies, most of them pureblood baby trolls and elves, to add to the half dozen baby fauns already at Trond Hall. The second batch of these departed in the goblin lieutenant Jophin's second sleigh trip. Jophin's troll and elf counterparts, Hasgrud and Guya, left with the first batch of babies, as they heard from Jophin and his volunteers that things were a madhouse down at the Hall. At Yuuri's request, Conrad and Yozak went with them, to greet Commander Griesel and his troops, and ensure that they and the Tronds were meshing smoothly.

Lord Erick was torn, but Lady Alana was decisive. Erick could go if he wanted, but he had all four of his top lieutenants on duty, plus the borrowed Lord Conrad, who knew the Shin Makoku newcomers personally, and whose specialty was international crime. In her opinion, they could more than handle it. Whereas here at the Fairy Circle was a mystical event of historic proportions. Alana believed their place was here now, as spiritual leaders of their people.

"I agree with Lady Alana," Yuuri had told Erick softly. "You began our night's work by encouraging your people – you have no regrets there. And if there has been a crime – best to respond to that with a fresh mind tomorrow. I value your company here." So Erick kissed his newborn son and wife good-bye, and stayed.

In the birthing process, two more trees had become _'wood nymph'_, after the babies – whom the wood nymph Ponderosa termed their _'maryoku parasites'_ – left them. Aldrich left the nymph-claimed trees alone once he recognized them. Both Aldrich and Friedrich grew more subdued, as time passed and Tariel and Garena were still missing.

"How are you holding up?" Wolfram murmured to Aldrich, as the second batch of babies headed off in Jophin's sleigh.

"I'm not in any danger yet," allowed Aldrich. "Manfred's been monitoring to make sure I didn't overextend my maryoku." Manfred nodded, likewise subdued. "But… maybe we should stop with these for tonight. Sire?"

"Tariel and Garena said they'd meet us here," said Yuuri, eyeing the swirl of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of light wolves who cavorted in the Fairy Circle and the woods nearby. "I wonder what happened."

"Everybody _argues_ with me," explained Tariel, suddenly appeared before him.

Friedrich cried out and enveloped the little wood nymph in a hug. "I was so afraid you weren't coming back," he breathed into his parent's hair.

Tariel didn't deny it. "At first, yesterday… I think not. But then I decide, I rejoin wood nymphs _slowly_, as Yuuri said. Much happier. But tonight is not so happy anyway. Tanya Troll Mother argues, Elvenhall argues, dragons argue, ghosts argue, first wood nymph I see in 4,000 years is Ponderosa, and she insults me. One more person or ghost _argues_ with me, and I go back to Fens and let you fix _yourselves!_"

Yuuri smiled warmly at the cross little wood nymph. "Welcome back, Tariel! I won't argue with you. I would value your advice though. Should we stop tonight, or carry through?"

"Carry through tonight," Tariel asserted. "Otherwise everybody _argues_ more! I change your list, though. Dragons insist on 10 eggs and 10 centaur babies, or they attack you and burn down Blood Pledge Castle,_ irritating_ reptiles... Troll Mother and Elvenhall demand 1000 babies each, but I tell them to wait. Garena can do later." He dismissed these pesky details with a wave of the hand. Yuuri and Wolfram looked bemused at how casually Tariel could dismiss the idea of dragons gutting Yuuri's castle.

"Garena still isn't here," said Friedrich.

Tariel rolled his eyes "I go get him." He phased out for a moment, and phased back in with a sheepish Garena.

"Sorry I'm late," said Garena. "Gwendal von Walde send his dragon-talker. I never meet _her_ before!" Wolfram's eyes narrowed. _Gwendal's _dragon-talker?

"New girlfriend _later_," said Tariel wryly. "You make Aldrich deliver all babies himself. Now you do most babies." Garena nodded. He looked entirely too starstruck to mind. "Yuuri Maou, ready to reunite more ghosts and light wolves back into whole souls?"

"Ah, I guess," said Yuuri, picking out Morgif – still wrapped – from the sleigh. "But aren't there too many? Surely this is more than 100."

"Not _argue_ with me!" reiterated Tariel crossly. "Not all are ghosts. Some say they cannot wait to reunite with incarnate soul – _their_ problem. Many nymphs. Some extra dragon eggs and centaur babies. Just wave sword and turn into back into souls. It all works out – a dozen more dragon eggs and centaurs than on your list."

Wolfram couldn't help laughing. He crossed his arms and said, "Yeah, Yuuri, you _wimp!_ Quit stalling and save all the ghosts already, will you?"

"Yeah, Yuuri, just wave your demon sword and fix this," Manfred couldn't resist adding. "It's cold out here, and the kids need to get to bed."

"Aha," said Yuuri, looking daggers at _several_ short and bossy blond Wolfram look-alikes. Murata hid his laughter behind a hand. Yuuri summoned his dignity. "Lord Brendan, if you could, please, send up another flare to request another sleigh. Or perhaps three flares, to suggest they send more than one sleigh if they're available now."

Yuuri strode into the middle of the Fairy Circle. He bowed his head in humble salute to the light wolves swarming about him. His Maou powers came upon him, blue lightning dancing in his hair. Then he threw back his head and drew Morgif high. He said, "Morgif, I bid you turn all these light wolves back into souls!" He lowered the sword and swung Morgif, slowly side to side, in wide arcs.

Light wolf after light wolf – Yuuri couldn't see the associated ghosts – got sucked into Morgif's mouth, like being devoured an ugly-mug vaccum cleaner.

While the others watched rapt, Friedrich grabbed Garena's arm, and pointed to the nymph-claimed trees. Three wood nymphs stood there, Ponderosa and two new ones. Two giant forms faded back into their trees, but a third walked toward them, no taller than Tariel, watching the ghost-and-light-wolf sucking operation in wonder. He too wore only a tan sleeveless shift in the bitter night's snow. His eyes were a deep green, and he looked no older than Tariel. But his hair was white and silver, tipped with bright yellow, like a sleek pussy willow bud, dusted with pollen. Friedrich and Garena made a move to block him from approaching Tariel, but he simply blinked out of existence, then blinked back, unconcerned, just past them, to walk directly to Tariel.

"What do, Tariel?" he asked. "This is how I come back from ghost, yes?" He pointed at Yuuri and his sword, still busily sucking in wolves.

"You remember?" asked Tariel, wide-eyed. "Ponderosa thinks I lie."

"Great nymphs are slow," said the newcomer with a grin. He seemed not to share Tariel's cold dispassion. "We small nymphs are not so powerful, but smarter." He glanced back at the other nymph trees. "And almost _all_ are nicer than Ponderosa. Too bad you meet her first, after so long alone. _How_ long, Tariel? _All_ my trees are new. I find only we four nymph. And those two know nothing."

Tariel hung his head and swallowed. "No, Mother," said Friedrich, come to put an arm around him. "Don't have this conversation now. We have a miracle to perform tonight. This can wait, telling… Excuse me, I'm Friedrich von Bielenfeld. I don't know your name?"

"Call me Salix," invited the newcomer wood nymph. He didn't blink at Friedrich calling Tariel _'Mother'_, chalking up this impossibility to a nickname or something. "I am wood nymph of Pussy Willow, but… Salix sounds better." He broke off to point to Yuuri's sword in wonder. "Nymphs now!" The assorted shades of white and grey and metallic light wolves had already been swallowed. Now new light wolves flooded the circle, in brilliant emerald, sapphire, and a yellowish spring green.

"A lot of work," sighed Tariel. "Many nymphs to carry."

"No," breathed Salix in wonder. "I do water and field nymphs for you, Tariel," he offered. "Easy for me." Pussy willows were among the few trees who thrived in water and fields. Before the nymphs all fell silent, Salix was probably as friendly with the water and field nymphs as with the forest wood nymphs.

"You… help me?" said Tariel. "I forget… I can't see nymph choices! I see only first nymph Ponderosa…" He threw himself into Salix's arms.

Salix laughed and hugged Tariel briefly. "Strange thing to forget! I hope you remember, too – not all agree with great nymphs, not to help you, even then. I help now. Later I find you, and you tell me what happens in the world while I'm gone, yes?"

"Yes!" said Tariel, grinning in delight. "Thank you, Salix!"

Friedrich and Garena watched this interchange with profoundly mixed feelings. It had been horrible to watch Tariel's reunion with Ponderosa, who treated their nymph-parent with such contempt. But at least she'd been scant threat to Tariel's relationship with his demon descendants. Why would Tariel turn his back on them, for _her?_ But in Salix, he'd found a worthy friend again. Compared to Salix, Tariel's sons felt they had been a poor substitute indeed.

Wolfram frowned, more concerned about Yuuri. "Tariel… we said about 100 ghosts tonight, to turn into babies. You told Troll Mother and Elvenhall they'd just have to wait. But you slipped in _all _the nymphs? We didn't agree to that! How many are there, anyway?"

Tariel shrugged defensively. "Nymph different. No babies to birth or take care of, no adults disoriented by soul reunion. Yuuri just have to swing sword a little while. Morgif do all the work."

"_How many?_" Wolfram repeated, arms crossed in anger.

"They come faster now," suggested Salix helpfully. And indeed, the deeply colored light wolves were now flying into Morgif's maw, tens every second, many more of the wood nymph emerald than the watery sapphire and yellow green field nymphs. "Is good for you this happens. Land much richer with nymphs to tend." Tariel nodded emphatically, and Wolfram gave up with a sigh. Yuuri wouldn't back out now, in any case.

At last, there were no more light wolves left within Morgif's range, though many still watched outside of it. Yuuri gratefully let the sword's point drop to the snow, to give his arms a rest. He considered bearing Morgif up high, as he had at Boom Falls. But there were many more than two hundred this time, with all the nymphs who'd crowded in, and he recalled those had been the hardest on him, coming _out_ of Morgif.

"Bring me leather to sit on," the Maou bid his audience. Alana hastily unbuttoned her leather cape bustle from under her coat and laid it out at Yuuri's feet with a bow. He bowed his head in return and sank to his knees on this snow-proofing. He planted Morgif's tip in the snow before him, holding the blade like a crucifix, as he had at Boom Falls. "Morgif, send forth these souls, made whole again!" he commanded.

Out popped over a hundred silvery soul balls, of varying hues and sizes and great brightness, as though Morgif were blowing bubbles. The first nine dove into nymph-free trees in the Fairy Circle, the rest hovering above, waiting for their turn to be born. As before, the golden spheres of the centaurs were hard on Yuuri, taking a several second pause for each one.

Next came much dimmer silvery souls, misplaced halves of the living like those who had rejoined Aldrich and Erick and Alana. These shot away into the night, to seek living halves who could not wait. They never knew how many these were – it seemed at least five times as many as the babies' spheres. Over the course of the next few years, they heard many stories about the interventions of these spheres, on the deathbeds of the dying, holding the hands of a husband about to deliver a killing blow to a wife, or a crippling blow to a child, staying the hand of a desperate pregnant girl about to kill herself. It became clear that these souls cut to the head of the line for good reason. The shock of their reunions with their living, was a price well worth paying.

Hardest of all on Yuuri, taking seconds apiece, were the many jewel-toned brilliant nymph souls. Tariel and Salix walked out hand in hand to stand before Yuuri. Each sapphire and yellow-green soul, Salix caught, then blinked out for a second, apparently to guide the water or field nymph to a more appropriate place to regain consciousness, than atop this winter-clad forested high mountain ridge. Tariel likewise caught the far more numerous emerald spheres and winked out, guiding each one to a tree of their own kind to awaken in. Since there were so many more of these, Salix caught some of the wood nymphs as well.

Tariel later confided to Aldrich and Wolfram, that it was into _their_ seed-trees, and Manfred's nymph-parent Wolfred's, that Tariel and Salix led the wood nymph souls. These trees' extra life maryoku healed them as they reawakened. Salix and Tariel themselves, and later other like-minded wood nymphs, succored the water and field nymphs.

But now, Wolfram stood transfixed with concern for Yuuri. Manfred gently suggested he go and monitor him – offer what healing he could, and call on Manfred and Friedrich if he was concerned for Yuuri's safety. Wolfram was forced to stop a few steps away from Yuuri, though. The power levels repelled him. He watched helplessly for several minutes, then hung his head and turned to helping swaddle and transport babies to the sleigh with Dietrich and Trenton. He was so distracted, though, that Brendan and Erick really supervised this effort.

An already tired Aldrich delivered babies from four trees, with Manfred assisting, while the more powerful healer Garena was assisted by Efram at the other six. Alana and Friedrich, Greta and Murata, took care of babies already born, and coordinated the sleighs that came to fetch them from Trond Hall. After about Aldrich's sixtieth baby delivery of the night, Manfred made him stop. When he was sure Aldrich was resting warmly in the sleigh, and that his parents would insist he stay resting, Manfred went and relieved Efram as Garena's birthing assistant. And still Yuuri knelt before Morgif, still wracked by nymphs coming out one after another, Tariel and Salix still transferring the nymph souls elsewhere. Although even this process was showing signs of fatigue – several brightly colored soul balls were waiting, and a few took off to make their own way in the world.

Erick tucked in the exhausted Dietrich and Trenton, to cuddle beside Aldrich, and bade the increasingly distracted Wolfram to help care for babies in the sleigh. He and Brendan and Efram continued the march of wrapping and transferring babies, from trees to their main sleigh, and from main sleigh to the nursery sleighs up from Trond Hall. And still Yuuri labored.

When the last tiny ogre – well, actually the chubby ogre babies ranged around 25 pounds apiece – was born and in Erick's arms, Garena and Manfred exchanged a hug, and the five still attending the births, boffed right shoulders on a job well done. Then Garena joined Tariel and Salix, to help with the backlog of nymph transfers.

Yuuri's eyes were closed, black bangs damp under his shearling-lined cap, face white with strain, blue sparks still dancing about his head, arms sagging from Morgif's upright support. And still nymphs came out of Morgif for another half hour, after all the baby deliveries were done, and the infants dispatched down to the nurseries in the warm Hall below. Most of the remaining group could have left – and serious noises were made about retiring the kids – but no one was willing to go before this work was over.

Wolfram, flanked by Friedrich and Manfred, arms around him for moral support, stood as close as they could to Yuuri to watch the end. The power – life maryoku – in each and every nymph, water or wood or field, was _vast_. Wolfram had never appreciated the sheer _scale_ of Yuuri's, of _Shinou's_, powers, until that night, when he watched just a _fraction_ of it set free, that its rightful owners might live again.

A last field nymph soul popped out of Morgif's mouth, and he sighed, "AHHn…" The tuckered sword closed his mouth and eyes, and began to snore.

The blue sparks died back on Yuuri. Wolfram caught him just as he toppled over, about to fall off the leather cape and into the snow. Friedrich and Manfred knelt beside him, and gave him all the healing power they had for a moment.

Friedrich sat back on his heels first, and touched Manfred quietly, to bring him back to awareness. "He'll be fine," Friedrich murmured. But neither of them disturbed Wolfram, eyes closed under fallen blond bangs, head bent as if in prayer, giving his healing fire to Yuuri. Unlike Manfred's and Friedrich's, Wolfram's fire wasn't offered in clinical assistance. It was pure unedited, unbridled Wolfram passion, a flaming cry of _'I love you!'_ calling Yuuri, keeping him company, beckoning him home, wherever his sleep might take him.

Erick Lord Trondheim and Brendan Lord Gratz waited patiently for the wood nymphs to complete their labors. Then first Erick, then Brendan, bowed low to them.

"Tariel and Salix of the wood nymphs," said Erick, "on behalf of Trondheim, Gratz, Bielenfeld, Weller, my liege Yuuri Maou, and all the Mazoku of Shin Makoku and beyond, I thank you for your help tonight. We recognize that you are not Mazoku, not subjects of this country or any other. A great wrong was done to your people, by mistake, which I hope is corrected now. We would be honored to call you friend, always. Would you return to Trond Hall with us?"

Salix blinked, not knowing what to make of this. Tariel said, "Thank you. But now I tell Salix… a very long story." He caught Friedrich and Garena's eye, and gave them a small nod and smile. "And then I come back to Trond Hall. Maybe not today. Within a few days. I _promise_. And… I tell _only_ Salix. The rest… can wait."

Salix blinked out. Tariel looked about to do the same, but stopped himself. He ran to Friedrich and Garena and gave them a big hug. "I love you," he said, kissing his nearly 800-year-old twin sons on the cheek. "If you need me sooner, just call, at the greenhouse."

"Wait," said Friedrich. "Don't tell Salix about us, without us there? Please, Mother?" Garena nodded.

Tariel considered this, the branching of possibility, then smiled. "Good. You sleep soon, but… noon tomorrow, in the greenhouse. Just you two come. We tell Salix together, about Theophilus von Bielenfeld's crazy proposal, and his wonderful descendants, who lead to saving all the nymphs." He nodded again at them, and disappeared.

The Fairy Circle disappeared as well. Tariel had been quite pleased by his grandson Aldrich's performance the past year. He put _Aldrich's _ trees right back where he'd planted them, in bare rock at the top of a ridge, to _honor_ him. The fact that it would annoy the hell out of the wood nymph Ponderosa, was a welcome bonus. He was sure Aldrich would feel the same way.

Erick gently roused Wolfram. The athletic seven-footer picked up his slight liege lord as easily as a child, and tenderly carried Yuuri to the sleigh for Wolfram. And the tired group headed home to Trond Hall at last, and most of them straight on to their beds. Though Erick, of course, would naturally head to bed about the time the children started getting up in the morning.

-oOo-

It was taken for granted, that the tales of old were simply exaggerated. How the trees once stood taller, and each mature harvested tree could replace itself in a mere decade. How the forests leapt with abundant game. How the boughs of fruit and nut trees bent to the ground by the sheer bounty of their crops, only to spring back in perfect health once relieved of their loads. How fertile fields bore richer crops and practically tilled themselves. Grazing herd animals were larger and more succulent once upon a time, sheep wool deep as the elbow, cows bore milk by the gallon, rich in cream. Streams leapt with trout and bass, practically into the hand of the fisher. And the taste of the fresh living water was exhiliarating.

Yes, it was all quite trite, and about as credible as the way Grandma insisted that people knew how to _behave_ when _she _was young. People were the same selfish, ornery, _petty_ lot they'd always been, weren't they? Surely the fields and woods and streams were the same.

But none of those were true. Mazoku – most Mazoku, aside from the demons blessed by Shinou's fountains – were _not_ the same as they had been, before Shinou's final showdown with the Enemy Soushu. Nor were the trees and fields and streams. All but the lowland demons, had been but a sadder, spiritually _smaller_, shadow of their former glory.

Yes, the population of Trondheim boomed from this time. And yes, it had always been a struggle to feed them, between the short summers and small greenhouses at high altitudes. But not anymore. Trondheim, and all of Shin Makoku, saw a stunning increase in the bounty of the land. Even arid, hardscrabble Donaghie in the west, a domain which depended on its industrial trade to feed its people, greened and gentled to the return of the nymphs. Nearly impenetrable forests stole over its wastelands.

Less and less land was needed under cultivation and for animal husbandry. Which was just as well. Because the forests and wildfields were rather aggressive about taking back more of what they claimed for their own. And as the wise Brendan Lord Gratz had cautioned, dragons eat one _hell_ of a lot. Especially baby dragons, who grow from eggs to the size of houses in just a year or two – absolutely _voracious_. Adult dragons, thank heavens, weren't as _busy_ as the youngsters, preferring to sleep a lot. But if they needed to work, blow fire, melt mountain passes, and fly rescue missions, especially in the cold, they too could easily devour their own weight in food in a week. And they preferred that weight in prime beef, fresh on the hoof.

Yuuri's human allies were puzzled by this change in the world. But no one was _concerned_ about such a good thing. So when Tariel and his friend Salix suggested to Yuuri that nymphs were best… not discussed… he saw no compelling reason not to respect their wishes. There was no especial effort made to keep the return of the nymphs a secret. But those who knew, knew, and those who didn't, didn't. The nymphs made friends with mortals when and if they cared to. Which was rather more often with the long-lived Mazoku than the mayfly humans. But even Mazoku were born, grew old, and died. As the immortal nymph did not. No, there were no nymph babies that night. Nor had there ever been a nymph baby, save for the peculiar hybrids Friedrich, Garena, and Emeraude von Bielenfeld.

This one night of Yuuri's long reign as Maou did more to increase the prosperity of his people than anything else he did, including opening and safeguarding trade with the humans. He was rightfully proud of this. But he didn't tend to crow about it much in front of Wolfram. Though beautiful and captivating, much as Yuuri was head over heels in love with Wolfram, his delightful sexy lover, his very best friend… his beloved Wolfram did insist on harping on the _downside _of things.

Yuuri slept through the next four days of their honeymoon. And Wolfram never let him forget it.

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

_Please review?_


	13. Motherland

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 13 –Motherland**

The four days of his honeymoon that Yuuri slept through, were some of the busiest of his reign as Maou. Or at least, that's how popular tradition would have it.

Indeed, just after Wolfram would remind Yuuri of how he _'slept through their honeymoon'_, the conversation tended to deteriorate into _'what we'll hang on you this time,'_ should he pass out like that again. And Wolfram was by no means the only one, when the conversation went down_ that_ road. Gwendal Lord Walde and Aldrich Lord Bielenfeld – the two opposing leaders of the Eleven Aristocrats – all too frequently suggested Yuuri _'fall asleep and handle this again'._ By which, of course, they meant, _'Just let us handle it and blame it all on you.'_ Conrad Lord Weller, Erick Lord Trondheim, Brendan Lord Gratz, Murata Ken, Yozak, and most especially Wolfram's father Manfred, would laugh and whole-heartedly approve the suggestion. Well, Manfred often made the suggestion in the first place, even if Wolfram didn't bring up the honeymoon.

Fortunately Yuuri was a very good-natured king. He laughed with them at the joke. And if he should wonder in private, whether it was really a joke at all, well… Such meditation helped his growth as a king.

-oOo-

After centuries of sleeping alone, Friedrich woke readily when his wife Alana returned to the room, hours after they'd returned from the Fairy Circle. He'd been worried about her. Being reminded of the execution of her family, her broken ties with her niece and once-heir Ilya, gone over a century now to Shinou's Temple. The shock of meeting Friedrich's birth family, then watching the wood nymphs in action. Seeing her own son Aldrich birthing all those miraculous infants, from trees. Her own reunion with a missing piece of her soul. Then to top it all off, she came home not to her overdue bed, but to help Erick interrogate heinous criminals.

For Giesel and Jessup's crew had caught the saboteurs at the gondola. That much Friedrich had heard from the nursery sleighs, up from Trond Hall. A three-quarter troll woman, a _'Daughter'_ as the trolls called them, and three half-troll men, were caught red-handed, and proud of it.

He hoped, for his wife's sake, that it would be as simple as four executions. Not that executions were especially simple.

After five minutes, Alana still hadn't emerged from the bathroom. _She hides her crying well_. He knocked softly on the bathroom door, and let himself in, without waiting for invitation. Alana was hunched on the floor, her sobs muffled in a towel.

He knelt down beside her, and gathered the much larger woman's head to his breast. "You don't need to hide your crying from me, love." Alana tried valiantly to bring herself under control, but that just made it worse. She gave in and bawled openly into her husband's arms, while he stroked her back. When the sobs worked themselves down to whimpering sniffs, he drew her to the bedroom couch, to cuddle together.

"So," he said, tenderly unplaiting her royal blue hair. "How bad was it."

"Bad. My sister-in-law. No, not Franklin's mother. My half-brother Eldred's widow Anmari. She tried to entroll Erick in front of the whole room. My shiny new slavery law… I had to order my own sister-in-law glanded and branded." Castrated, to prevent the troll woman from criminally controlling others. The trolls didn't really understand pheromone control. But they knew that castrated women couldn't entroll males. Then she'd be branded across the face with the nature of her crime. If that were all, she'd be exiled to a remote criminal hall, never tolerated in any other community in Trondheim again.

"She's a Daughter," continued Alana, "one of Troll Mother's elite. After interrogation, I'm sure she'll be executed."

"But not by _you_, I trust," Friedrich said gently. "Alana, dear, you _cannot_ execute a member of your own family. You realize that, don't you?" When Alana looked unsure, he said, "It's morally impossible. The fact that she's a Daughter, that this is an international incident with the troll reservation, a heinous act of terrorism, just makes it worse. But you would have to turn her over to Yuuri, anyway, just because she's your sister-in-law."

"But only if he'll really execute her," said Alana. "I feel like such a hardened monster for saying that." Her voice quavered. "Anmari said _we_ should have been executed, my brother and I. That _we_ were traitors, for taking the von Trondheim name, and –"

"Shh, love," Friedrich gentled her. "Of course you're tough, but you're no monster. It simply needs to be done. In fact… Is that even what you were crying about, darling?"

"You don't have to call me _'darling'_, Friedrich," Alana said, sitting up, drawing her knees to her chest. "Our marriage is just a farce anyway. You were stuck with an ugly angry troll adolescent –" Her face crumpled.

"Hey, _hey!_" objected Friedrich. "Alana, I wouldn't let anyone else say such things about you, _or _our marriage, and I won't let _you _say them, either!"

"But it's true –"

"It's _bullshit!_" insisted Friedrich. "Alana, you were a tough, dedicated, brave kid. I _admire_ what you and your brother accomplished. I'm _honored_ to have been a part of it. I remember the war-torn wreckage of your country when we married, Alana. The Trondheim you've built is a _wonder_. I see people who love to be here. They're proud to be Trond. Our marriage may not be the stuff of adolescent romance, Alana, but we both had more important business to attend to. You were a young woman on a mission. And you succeeded brilliantly. _And,_ I learned a great deal from you."

"_You_ learned from _me!_" Alana scoffed.

"Yes," said Friedrich. "Alana, I was_ old_, but I was an experienced _healer,_ not a ruler. Young Brendan has more experience as Lord Gratz already, than I had back then. Researching and answering your questions, writing our weekly letters to each other, I learned more… Well, maybe not _from_ you, exactly. _With_ you. I learned more about ruling Bielenfeld with you, than I ever learned from my father." He quirked up a lip. "Granted, that's largely because I never _listened_ to my father. Nevertheless."

That got a half-laugh out of Alana. "Oh... I wonder what my mother and I…"

"Well, she'd be proud of the woman you've become. Judging from my own experience raising six kids – _only two of them mine_ – I imagine she'd have had more than one occasion to rue the day you were born. Shinou knows, I've felt that way about Aldrich enough times, and he was the best of the lot." He traced Alana's elfin-tilted eyebrow with a finger. "I especially like his eyes."

"Eyes? And here I thought we were dissecting his character." Alana sighed. "You did give him pretty eyes, though."

"_We_ gave him pretty eyes," Friedrich corrected. "Huge and green, like mine. Elfin tilted, with good vision at any light level, like yours. You have beautiful eyes. Alana. Tell me. What's wrong, love. You cried at seeing the babies. You sobbed after the… soul reunion. Why so sad, love?" He drew her head back onto his shoulder and stroked her hair.

"It's just… A woman on a mission, tough as nails, a ruler. I just… feel like I never got to be a _woman_. And I wouldn't… choose differently. Like you said, Trondheim needed me. I had to redeem my family's execution and the war, but… Seeing Aldrich with Dietrich, with Manfred, with the babies… I wish… I dunno. I'm sorry. I'm not… ungrateful for our marriage. I just…"

Friedrich tipped her head up and kissed her, long and deep. When he broke it off, he stroked her face. "You always get to choose the next bit. No regrets."

Her face crumpled a little in doubt. "But you don't want me as a lover, do you?"

"I have a wife, and you are she. I assumed you had your own choice of lovers, though." Alana didn't answer, so Friedrich held her tighter. "Yes. I want you as a lover, Alana."

"Maybe we could have a daughter? To rule as Lady Trondheim after me?"

"Maybe we could have a daughter, and set her free. I was free once, pots of money and connections from a royal family, no obligations. I chose to make my life mean something. Out of all those kids I raised… Wolfgang and Manfred were the only ones I could give that gift of freedom. How about we have a daughter for herself? And if she proves to be the best choice for Lady Trondheim, and wants it… Only then?"

"You want me to bring Ilya home."

"Well, she is the expert on the problem at hand. Seems a shame to begrudge Trondheim her expertise. If she were someone _else_'s crackpot niece, you'd have her up here in a second, and not fuss about her theology. You might even like her by now, you know."

Alana glowered at him. "You're on her side. What do you know about it?"

"I am on _your_ side, _always_, dear. But Aldrich does mention her letters during supper conversation. They have a lively theological correspondence going. At first, she sounded like your typical ticked-off brainy adolescent. But that was over a century ago. She's smart, idealistic, devout – a woman on a mission from God."

Alana frowned even deeper. "You're saying she's like me."

Friedrich shot her an evil green-eyed demon smile. "I suspect that may be the crux of the problem between the two of you, yes. How about this – _Yuuri_ summons her up here, not you. And if you still can't stand her, she won't stay long."

"Deal. Of course, I shall hold you to your end."

"Ah – what end was that?"

She pinned him to the couch. "A daughter, Friedrich dear. You know, I think you've been holding out on me. I think you've been pretending to be old for _social purposes_. That twin brother of yours looks half your age."

"Mmm… guilty," Friedrich admitted. "But –"

"Let's just say your involvement in Yuuri's miracle, made you young again, Friedrich dear. Since it was a miracle, you should get younger_ quick_." Alana was laughing at him.

And so it was that Yuuri – in Wolfram's handwriting – sent to Shinou's temple, to reunite the shaman-priestess Ilya von Trondheim with her family, by kingly writ. He also miraculously restored the elderly Friedrich von Bielenfeld to half his age.

No one offered him credit for Alana's pregnancy.

-oOo-

"Please leave us. I'll be fine," Erick assured the guards on the Daughter's cell beneath Trond Hall. The glass factory didn't feature a dungeon – the saboteurs were quartered in some empty coal rooms. Erick sat on a crate and waited for the door to close, holding his prisoner's eye all the while.

"So. You're my Great-Aunt Anmari."

"_You_ are no kin of mine,_ ogre!_" she spat at him.

"Factually incorrect. If you're three-quarters troll, then three-quarters of you came from Troll Mother, as did slightly over a quarter of me. We are kin, by blood and marriage. I'm at least as disgusted by the fact as you are. You're a racist hate-mongering criminal, and a bitch. And you very much deserve to be glanded and branded and executed."

She smirked. "_Do_ it then, _ogre!_ You'll see how the troll public reacts!"

"Yes, I don't want to upset them. Especially not _now_, by rights the most joyous night in all Trondheim's history, the night the trolls were reborn." He paused, eyes narrowed, gauging her reaction.

"Lies! What are you babbling about, mongrel?"

"I'm talking about the rebirth of the troll race. And the ogres. And elves and fauns and centaurs, kobolds, gnomes, and dragons, others as well. Fresh blood, pure-blood babies, the reincarnation of ghosts from the time of Natasha and Vladimir the Great. A miracle, the ghosts of Trondheim redeemed at last. Vladimir himself was reborn this night. As my son. Vladimir himself – as an_ elf-troll-ogre-demon-goblin_ baby. My heir – of my blood and my _pure elven_ wife's."

"_Vladimir!?_ As a child of _you!?_ And an _elf?!_ Blasphemy!"

"I think I'll name him Vlad. Vlad'k'vriel von Trondheim. His last incarnation was as my father, _Franklin Lord Trondheim_. The son of your brother-in-law. My father. Who chose to breed with an ogre."

"Lies!"

"I believe you told my grandfather once, that he should have committed suicide, rather than become the first Lord Trondheim. Though his own Queen mother, and Troll Mother as well, clearly intended that Grandfather and Great-Aunt Alana live, to rule and redeem."

"_Redeem?_ Blasphemy! You're _collaborators!_ You bend your knee to Accursed Shinou's Maou! You treat elves and goblins and ogres as equals, and _demons_ as superiors!"

"And, if what I say is true? That Shinou's Maou has redeemed the ghosts of Vladimir's Last Stand? That full-blood troll babies are just upstairs. That the first twenty of them tonight are an act of good faith, the first twenty pure-blood trolls born in four thousand years. But a thousand more are already promised to Troll Mother. And King Vladimir could have been born as any one of them. Yet instead he chose to be reborn as my son, more than half elf. And part _ogre_."

"Prove it! Let me see these _babies!_"

"_You?_ A hate-mongering _terrorist?_ You're not fit to wash my son's diapers. You'll never see these precious children."

At last, a wave of doubt crossed Anmari's face. "Troll Mother –"

"-- will allow Yuuri to execute you, of course. For, of course, I shall turn you over to _him_ for execution. You're too close kin for us to execute you ourselves. It would be _unsettling_ here in Trondheim. And you've already done enough _unsettling_, with your vicious acts of terrorism. But there won't be any fuss when the troops at Blood Pledge Castle execute and bury you."

"_Bury me!" _This was the ultimate sacrilege to a troll, to be buried like sewage, rather than eaten as good meat, one's life celebrated by one's closest kin.

"In our monthly letter to the halls, I'll mention in passing that you were executed down below for your hate-crimes. Which included the attempted _genocide_ of half the remaining members of the kobold race, plus a foster mother faun, come to advise us on how to care for our miraculous faun and centaur babies. No one shall mourn _Anmari the Genocide._ Least of all me. I'll be happy to let my liege lord Yuuri Maou bury you as the shit you are."

Anmari read in Erick's eyes, that he did indeed mean it. "What do you want from me?" she hissed.

"Two things. The first is information. What did Troll Mother know of your plans? The truth."

Anmari looked down and away, face angry. "Nothing. She disapproved them."

"So she _did_ know, and forbade you to go forward, and you did it anyway."

"She was accommodating the enemy, the demon spawn of Accursed Shinou!"

"And the Kriegsbad Pass? And the earlier acts of terrorism on the Escarpment? Were you responsible for those as well?" Erick watched closely. By the way Anmari's eyes darted side to side, she couldn't decide what she wanted to say. She was simply casting around for the most useful lie. "Never mind. We'll get that off the men.

"Second thing," Erick continued, standing to tower over her, huddled on the coal-dusty floor. "I do agree with you on one thing, Anmari. The Trondheim royal family should have been allowed to commit suicide, and be eaten by their kin with full troll death rites, rather than publicly executed and buried. It would have been better for the_ people of Trondheim_. So upon the happy night of my marriage to my beloved _elven_ wife, and the birth of my _mixed-breed_ son, I shall be more merciful than swine like you deserves."

Erick tossed his knife at her chained hands. "Oops, _I dropped it._ You have one hour. Be dead before I get back."

And she was.

Erick was unrepentent when Aldrich and Alana confronted him about his choice the next night. He insisted that it was simply the right thing to do. After discussion, they decided to go ahead and let Erick write up her execution just as he'd threatened – that Anmari the Genocide had been executed by Yuuri Maou, turned over to him by the von Trondheim government. Her burial was neither stated nor denied. Commander Griesel even filed the paperwork, that his troops carried out the execution, though no doubt he told General von Dienst the truth.

Griesel offered to tell Yuuri when he woke up, but Wolfram vetoed that. Wolfram himself told Yuuri, in private. Yuuri accepted it quietly. Once upon a time, a young Japanese boy would have been outraged at anyone being executed for any reason. But Yuuri the man had himself executed pirates since then, as Maou. The law of Trondheim, and the law of Shin Makoku, did require this execution. He simply buried his face in Wolfram's hair, and eventually they made love.

Anmari's body was thrown into a plain red stewpot, and served to whoever wished to eat of the anonymous Unmourned, along with one of the other three saboteurs. Their death feasters included Erick, Aldrich, Alana, their top lieutenants, the Escarpment traffic police, and the Trond Hall rescue teams. Alana considered holding back some of the meat to give Troll Mother. But Erick vetoed this courtesy, on the grounds that Troll Mother should have stopped Anmari, or at least warned Erick of her intention. But they did quietly inform Troll Mother of the truth, of Anmari's suicide and anonymous stewpot. Troll Mother was grateful for the private favor, and accepted the necessity of the public version of events.

The other executed saboteur knew damned well what he was doing – a dedicated anarchist and troll supremacist. But he and Anmari had convinced the other two that their covert mission had Troll Mother's blessing. These were branded and sent to live out their lives in a branded hall.

Unfortunately, as best they could determine, these four had only been responsible for the one act of sabotage. The earlier attacks on the Escarpment and the Kriegsbad Pass, were the work of someone else.

-oOo-

The goblin lieutenant Jophin patted Guya on the thigh to get her attention. "Guya? Are you still very busy?"

"No, just showing off the baby to friends. I need to get you home and find you a bed, don't I, you handsome chubster?" she crooned to the baby, nuzzling his forehead. They were still in the staging auditorium, but everything was winding down. "What's up, Jophin?"

"The lady faun is still waiting for you."

"_What?!_ Oh, no! I thought she'd gone up to the babies ages ago!" But Jophin led her to a small woman, huddled asleep in the back of the auditorium, with the group of kobold immigrants from Donaghie. Guya frowned and looked at her more closely while Jophin gently roused her.

"_Freerie!_" Guya cried, as the woman blinked awake. "I never dreamed it was _you, _girlfriend!" She drew the faun up, and they hugged and laughed and cooed over Guya's enormous baby. As they started off for the treeborn nursery, Freerie clomped awkwardly, looking for all the world like she had cerebral palsy. Guya stopped dead in her tracks.

"What on _earth_ do you have on your _hooves_, girlfriend? And why are you hiding your _horns?_" For Freerie was disguised as a demon – a palsied demon at that, since it was awkward for her to clomp around with boots on her hooves.

"Well, I…" Freerie looked ashamed. "We try to blend in and…"

"Take those dreadful boots _off!_" said Guya, also relieving the faun of her horn-hiding hat. She asked a passing goblin to stow all Freerie's gear in Erick's room for now. "Freerie, you're in _Trondheim_ now! You don't have to hide who you are!" Guya turned to the room at large, and called out. "Hey, everybody! Help me welcome Freerie, a _faun, RAH!_"

Everyone left in the hall joined her in cheering Freerie. They welcomed her with broad smiles, thanking her for coming, as the women passed on their way out of the staging auditorium. Freerie was in tears by the time they reached the hallway.

"We really are welcome here. As _fauns_," she said, wiping her eyes.

"You bet!" said Guya. "Especially today! Because girl, are you ever a new mama!" She hugged her faun friend and brought her to the nursery.

Freerie's first reaction was more tears of joy and delight. Her second was, "Wait. No! Why are their _legs_ swaddled together, and the little ones in _beds!_ No, no,_ this_ won't do!" In an instant, the awkward self-effacing faux demon disappeared. The highly competent faun herdswoman Freerie was right in her element – birthing season for the flock. "But this floor, tsk-tsk! They can't learn to run and play properly on stone, they'll break their poor tender little new hooves. And this goat milk is fine for the fauns, sure, but for centaurs? No, no! They need mare's milk, or at least cow's milk – goat's milk isn't nearly rich enough for them. And where's their fresh green grass? Oh, you poor little kids, born out of season!"

With all the tender delicacy which animal husbanders are _not_ known for, Freerie unswaddled a faun and a centaur, and dumped them on the floor, in front of the astonished speechless night nursery staff of trolls and elves. "Come on, get up now! Oh, someone get me a deep rug!" she barked out, while tugging on the little faun and centaur arms, to insist they get up on their feet. "Oh, you lazy things! You've been lying around like lumps! But that's not good for your digestion, oh no! They'll all get colic!"

And indeed, the nurses had to concede that the first faun babies already seemed to be getting mighty unhappy and ill, and they hadn't known what ailed them.

The baby faun and centaur whined about it, but Freerie persisted, and they got up on their spindly wobbly legs, to cheers from the staff. "_That's_ the way! Alright, let's get the rest of them up on their feet, now! Where's my_ rug?_" demanded Freerie.

It soon became clear that though the babies were wobbly at walking, and very wobbly standing still, they _ran_ quite well. And the room that was quite big enough for babies in cribs, wasn't _nearly _big enough for 20 hooved babies clomping around, running into each other, falling down, getting hurt, and crying. And in the absence of proper fresh green grass, they tended to gnaw at the rug and chew on their cribs. Had anyone thought to look, they might have noticed that these babies were born with full dental equipment. They chewed anything they got their little hands on, and had a tendency to bite their caretakers as well, now that they were up and feeling frisky.

-oOo-

The next day, Erick's thoroughly bemused demon lieutenant Jessup brought Freerie's… _demands_… to Alana's attention, as soon as Friedrich left her for his meeting with the nymphs in the greenhouse. Brendan Lord Gratz, ruler of a ranching domain, joined Alana in looking over the situation, to the boys' utter delight. The hooved nursery was chaos. Freerie vetoed any attempt to put diapers on the babies, so the rug was in unspeakable condition, and the room reeked. Jessup's wife and the nurses had no idea what to do about the lack of fresh grass, for there was simply none to be had in midwinter. Even milk supplies were strained. And none of the mares produced milk at this season, with no foals at hand.

Alana left the knowledgeable Lord Brendan to nod and bond with the strong-minded rancher Freerie, while Alana poked her head into the other nurseries, to see how their situations were developing. Unsurprisingly, the elves and trolls were no trouble at all, their nurses in rapture. She frowned in thought at the quiet clutch of dragon's eggs, kept warm. She made a mental note to consult with Garena or Friedrich, or possibly Wolfram, about these.

True to Jophin's promise, the goblins and kobolds seemed to have bonded well, and insisted they knew what they were doing with regards to the baby gnomes as well. But then, none of these races were terribly bright. Alana had a quiet word with the demon nurses also on staff in that room, to keep a very careful eye on the health of the baby gnomes until they could get a real gnome up here. When she ran into Greta in one of the other rooms, she suggested the princess head in there, too. Greta was good with goblins.

Then Alana wandered on, humming happily and jangling her keys, and occassionally patting her belly with a smile. It wouldn't show any time soon – indeed, with Aldrich, pregnancy had barely shown at all on her tall frame – but_ she_ knew. _A daughter. She'll be so pretty, like Aldrich!_ Alana had always wished she were pretty. Sometimes she half wished her son Aldrich _hadn't_ been quite so… pretty. But for herself, Alana's flat, elastic, bland trollish face, was saved from homeliness only by the slight elven grace notes of straight nose, slanted eyes, and shapely ears. She had a great body – she kept that in fantastic shape. But her face… _I'm so glad my daughter will be pretty!_

She found her step-grandson Lord Efram, Wolfram's younger half-brother, in the nursery of winged babies. He was already carrying out careful experiments into the question of what pixies ate. His expertise was light years ahead of everyone else's here – limited to some reading, and having met pixies once, at the rebirth of the phoenix a few years back. But Efram had substantial training as healer, empiricist, majutsu theoretician, and practically every other scientific discipline Shin Makoku knew.

With Manfred's marriage to his new step-father Aldrich, poor Efram had acquired yet a _fourth_ professor parent. Alana chuckled to herself – late-added and _'only'_ a stepfather as Aldrich might be, he was also Efram's liege lord, and she was confident that Aldrich would have his way. He insisted that his young vassal add _at least_ a nobility degree to his science-heavy background, plus coursework in the fine arts and humanities, preferably philosophy and religion. Efram was a legitimated _Lord von Bielenfeld_, for heaven's sake, not a _tradesman,_ or a _technician_.

"Lady Alana," Efram said, pulling her aside. "I still don't think I have quite the right diet figured out here, but… I've started growth charts for this nursery. These babies are barely over half a day old, and already, eating the wrong food, they've gained an ounce, some even two ounces." Since the pixie babies started out with about the heft of a kitten, this was an eye-popping growth rate. "I'm not really familiar with infant development in these other races, I'm sorry. But I'm wondering if they don't all have accelerated metabolisms. Not like newly reincarnated babies, but more like the life maryoku re-attached to their souls is… I don't know. Fast-forwarding them to resume the lives that were interrupted."

Alana blinked several times through this, barely able to follow the strange concepts, despite long exposure to her intellectual husband. Friedrich, she normally just reminded to speak a language she understood, like _people,_ or _spiritual well-being_, or _economics_. But she did want her new step-grandsons to like her, so she worked hard to follow what Efram was saying.

"Um, well. Perhaps the elf babies could shed light on… that? We do already have pure-bred elves, unlike these others. They're all descended from a handful of survivors of Vladimir's Last Stand, hardly an ordinary group. But, there are at least… pure-blood elves. Would this… growth charting thing… on them, help… whatever your question is? Dietrich seems to, um, understand this kind of… stuff. Maybe Diet could help? Or some of dear Friedrich's assistants?"

"Excellent! Thank you, Grandmother Alana!" Efram said, and ran off to recruit Dietrich for his scientific studies.

Alana smiled after him, hoped for the best, and made a mental note to ask Manfred to supervise this… _baby experimenting_. It didn't sound quite safe. But her humming resumed, all the happier. Like Freerie, the more the chaos and busy enterprise erupted all around her, the happier Alana became. _Ah, what a great day for Trondheim!_ Her people of many races were busily building their hopes and dreams all around, and they needed her. She patted her belly with a smile and turned into several more rooms. She shook her head in bemusement at the monkeys. _Why on earth did Mother Tariel add monkeys? _Her list of mental notes steadily grew.

Complete bedlam greeted her in the ogre nursery. To the rest of the Mazoku world, the distinction between ogres and trolls seemed vague. But to themselves, the two races were quite distinct. Alana couldn't help smiling, feeling a bit… _smug_, at the scant handful of Trond Hall's troll-ogres coming to grips with the fact that, just perhaps, they were a bit more… _troll_ than they had previously thought. She couldn't help enjoying it – Alana had spent all too much of her reign refereeing endless pointless pot-shots between trolls and troll-ogres.

The ogre babies were ornery as hell, each screaming for individual attention. No amount of soothing maternal troll pheromones made the slightest impression on them. Indeed, several of the chubby babies had already figured out how to make their part-troll nurses woozy with ogre counter-pheromones. And though this had been mostly forgotten, ogres were not strictly earth majustsu users like trolls, instead bearing all the different varieties as demons, except at significantly greater strength. It's just that, like trolls, they inherited their maryoku persuasion from their mothers – Troll Mother's earth maryoku, in the case of every existent troll-ogre. But this crew of twenty monster babies included earth, fire, wind, and water users, and nurses only really familiar with earth majutsu and elf glamours. Alana smiled and nodded at the nurses' complaints – well, most of them were factory workers, really – and made a mental note to add some experienced multi-maryoku demon nurses to this room.

She turned to move on, but one particular ogre baby caught her eye, an especially big bruiser with blue-green hair, of a more vivid shade than Erick and Guya's new baby Vlad. She walked over and patted down the smoldering fire on the back of his male nurse's tunic. "Why, if it isn't a little firebug!" she said with a wide grin, hoisting the twenty-seven pound bundle of attitude. "I have some experience with _this_ kind," she confided in the new-minted nurse, of huge calloused hands. "Mind if I take him with me for a stroll?"

The staff were only too happy to let _that_ one go. Alana tied dark baby sunglasses on him, the baby "_ORNK!_"ing and spitting at her. The black glasses, contrasting with the slightly flop-top bob-pointed ears, gave the fat and ornery baby an even more debonair, diabolical look. _Oh, poor Guya!_ she thought. _Erick's gonna _love_ this one!_

"What were the names of the fore-ogres? Alderan son of Daneth was Troll Mother's son, wasn't he?" The nearest workman-tuned-nurse nodded confirmation. "Well, I think I shall call you Dannikin for now. Ah! None of that!" she said, blocking a cranky firebug attack with the ease of long practice from her son Aldrich. _You have a fine temper, just like my own little firebug, and my great-nephew Erick, too!_

Dannikin firmly planted on her hip, Alana reassigned some nurses, consulted with the Trond Hall facilities staff, and identified the whereabouts of her top priority racial foster parents. Armed with information and the beginnings of a plan, and accompanied by Freerie and Lord Brendan, she went to the greenhouse, to crash Friedrich's meeting.

-oOo-

"So, I'm thinking a temporary greenhouse for the hoofed nursery over there," Alana concluded to the nymphs. "But I was hoping you, or maybe your field nymph friends, could do something to make the grass grow quicker?"

Tariel pointed to his preferred location, attached to the greenhouse they were sitting in now. "Over _here_. Yes, we do, bring field nymph, move some trees in too. But you cannot say nymph do anything. Say Yuuri did it. We call field nymph after you put up glass and thaw grass. Let Aldrich thaw grass – he is good with fire and plants."

"Um, alright," said Alana. "But why… there?" She didn't really much mind, but from an architectural aesthetic, she would have preferred the one small short greenhouse at mid-Hall, instead of tacked onto a glass pyramid off to one side.

"Need big greenhouse," said Salix. "Maybe seven times floor of this pyramid. And three of us high. Not enough room over there."

Alana frowned, trying to calculate in her head what her facilities people had told her. "And that's… fourteen feet tall? I don't think we have that much glass."

"Good thing you live over glass factory," Tariel observed blandly. "Start with what you have. Make more."

"But hurry today," added Salix. "Nymph work by midnight, or fauns get sick."

"Understood," said Alana. "And – my other foster parents? And the dragon eggs?" she added to Garena.

Garena nodded. "OK. I get foster parents, with dragons."

-oOo-

"It's always bugged me, you know? That I couldn't remember any lives as a woman before. Just life after life as a powerful, driven _man_," Aldrich confided in Manfred. The newlyweds were still cuddling in bed, a bit hungry, but relishing a little time to themselves. "But since Boom Falls, I've been dreaming about being a woman, long ago."

He remembered being a _troll_ woman, Queen Natasha in fact, though he didn't give Manfred that level of detail. It was hard to get specific without violating demon etiquette against bragging of one's past lives. And Aldrich's remembered past lives, one after another, were among the very greatest, most powerful rulers in Bielenfeld history. Which rather annoyed him. Most recently, he'd been Theophilus Lord Bielenfeld, his grandfather, the brilliant empiricist who'd sired ten children and ruled for six centuries, before he met his ill-considered demise a few decades before Aldrich's birth. Before that, he'd been Breufeld Lord Bielenfeld, the first fire healer, who'd wrested the succession from the ancient von Bielenfeld pure fire user line. Life after life, he'd been a domineering _man_.

"I felt like, you know, even though you're more… masculine, than I am, that maybe you should be more the… mother to our kids, because I didn't have that _experience _to draw on. But every time I thought that, it's like something inside me was crying."

Manfred kissed him tenderly. He knew. It was one of the many inner paradoxes that made Aldrich, Aldrich. Though one of the most powerful men in Shin Makoku today, deep inside, his beloved Aldrich envied his prettier, more petite relatives. He _was_ a power broker, with a long military career. But his delight was nurturing younger Lords along, marital counseling and brokering marriages, teaching unconditional love, tending his potato plantation and flower garden, caring for Manfred's children, and then at last his own son, Dietrich. Manfred wasn't sure how Aldrich had been with his female lovers – rather ambivalent, he suspected. With Manfred, Aldrich wanted to close the door, and banish his masculine roles to _outside_ their bedroom.

Manfred said, "So I need to find your inner troll _and_ your inner woman this trip, huh?" Manfred poked around Aldrich's body playfully, and Aldrich laughed.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Aldrich?" Manfred rolled his eyes at his mother-in-law's voice, and Aldrich grinned agreement. "May I come in? I'm afraid it's rather urgent. I have some work for you and Manfred both."

"A mother-in-law, bearing _chores_ no less," murmured Manfred, drawing blankets over their naked bodies in sad resignation.

Aldrich called, "Come in, Mother! What's the problem?"

"Tariel says I need you to thaw some grass, Aldrich. Our faun consultant wants a greenhouse for the hoofed babies. Apparently there's a time crunch, or they'll get sick soon. So I need you down in Tariel's greenhouse within ten minutes. Thanks, darling."

"You know I'm a_ king_ down below, Mother," Aldrich complained.

"Yes, but you're in _my_ domain now, aren't you, Aldrich?" said Alana. "Or are you saying you're not _willing_ to help the fauns and centaurs? If so -"

"_Argh!_ I'll be down in ten minutes!" agreed Aldrich sourly.

"Good boy," dismissed Alana, turning to Manfred next. He and the ogre baby Dannikin were amusing each other with little puff-fires. "Manfred, could you please check in on all the babies, and your sons, for me, while I see to the greenhouse operation? Efram says the babies are getting too fat but they're not eating enough, or somesuch, and he has Dietrich helping him with some kind of science experiment on the babies. And Wolfram is moping around his room watching Yuuri _sleep,_ for heaven's sake."

Manfred nodded. "Yes, Mother Alana, I'm on it. Who's your little friend? Aldrich, don't you love the _attitude_ on this kid? Is Erick adopting him?"

Alana smiled broadly at the ogre baby, who glowered back, behind his dark sunglasses, blowing bubbles irritably on his lips. "I'm calling him Dannikin for now. Erick hasn't met him yet. But I do think they _would_ get on, don't you? Oh, would you be willing to take him with you, Manfred? I need to hand him off to _someone_ before I help with the earth-shaping for the greenhouse. And there aren't so many here who can handle a diabolical little firebug. Right, Dannikin?" The baby growled at her in reply.

Manfred held out his arms, which sagged as the baby's heft fell on them. "Hm, I see what Efram means. You've gained a pound or three already, haven't you, _'little'_ Dannikin?"

Alana smiled fondly at them, and unconsciously patted her belly again. Aldrich's eyes narrowed. "Mother… you aren't…"

"Chop-chop, dear, hurry up!" Alana replied with a wink. "See you at the greenhouse in ten minutes, you promised!" And she sailed out the door, happily humming.

"Yes, I'll bet Aldrich's going to have a little _sister_," crooned Manfred, with an evil green-eyed demon grin at Dannikin, then Aldrich. Aldrich wryly nodded agreement. They both hurried up and dressed for their chores.

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

_Please review?_


	14. The Royal Consort

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 14 – The Royal Consort**

"Well, in my considered healer's opinion – your idiot husband's still asleep," said Manfred, holding a glass of water to dribble into Yuuri's mouth. Since no one else had thought to water the sleeping man, Yuuri drank a third of the glass. Manfred waved a candle ablaze in the bathroom. "Leave the light on. With luck he'll stumble in there instead of wetting the bed. Now, come help me in the nursery, mopey vixen."

"I can't just leave him! It's our honeymoon!" wailed Wolfram, still sitting erect on a hard chair, clutching Yuuri's hand.

"Mm, mine, too!" said Manfred. "Son, I love you deeply, and it makes me _proud_ the way you've inherited my narcissism. Aren't you afraid that if you sit there pouting too long, your face will puff up, and your ass get so flabby that Yuuri won't want it anymore? _Get. Up._"

Wolfram rocketed to his feet, sputtering mad.

Conrad, who'd been applying great kindness and sensitivity to get Wolfram out of the room for the past half hour, couldn't quite stifle a laugh. Wolfram wheeled on him. "You've personal experience with this problem, have you, Weller?"

"_He_ said it! _I_ didn't say it!" objected Conrad. "Here, hold a baby." For Conrad had been playing with Dannikin while Manfred poked at Yuuri. In fire talent and attitude, the baby ogre reminded him greatly of a baby brother he once knew.

"Oof," said Wolfram, as the hefty child settled into his arms. "Hm. Are you hungry, little Dannikin? He's growing fast. We should try him on some cereal."

Manfred frowned thoughtfully. "I think troll babies stick to meat and milk for a few years."

"No," said Wolfram flatly. "Troll-ogre ancestry is less fangy than pure troll. I think they're more truly omnivores, like demons. Aren't you, Dannikin?" Wolfram didn't notice that he was making up a true story, back-figuring from something he simply knew was true – Dannikin wanted cereal, not meat.

Manfred and Conrad exchanged a glance, remembering something Wolfram had told them, about how Tariel _'adjusted'_ Wolfram's fire healer maryoku. That Wolfram had a flair for simply knowing what animals needed. Or perhaps – _other_ animals in general?

At the nurseries, the three men split, Manfred to find out exactly what Dietrich and Efram _'experimenting on the babies'_ meant, Conrad to find Commander Griesel, and Wolfram to the ogre nursery to hand off Dannikin to someone with cereal. This last took some time, since the nurses hadn't expected to feed the babies cereal ever, much less the day they were born! But eventually some powdered oatmeal was produced, and the ogre babies loved it.

"So, are there any problems in here?" Wolfram asked a nurse casually, while she poured oatmeal fortified milk into an enthusiastic Dannikin.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing _but_ problems in here," she said, wagging a naughty-naughty finger at Dannikin. The baby ignored her, eyes squeezed shut in blissful enjoyment of his gloppy bottle. The ogre nursery was a dark room – now Wolfram was the one wearing glasses, not Dannikin. "These ogre babies are hellions! Except for little Princess over there. She's so good – never makes a squeak."

The nurse meant it as a compliment. But Wolfram frowned, and checked on the girl ogre. She lay almost inert, eyes half open, uninterested in anything, a striking contrast to gusty little Dannikin. Wolfram picked her up and cuddled her. _Not nearly as hefty as Dannikin either_, he thought in concern. There was a piece of paper attached to her crib. The writing was in a childishly neat Shin Makoku hand, initialed _DvB_ – Dietrich, Aldrich's young son. The page didn't say much. _Ogre baby girl #14, called Princess_, the date, and her weight today. _Definitely lighter than Dannikin._

Dietrich's best friend Trenton, heir to Gratz, wandered in, leaving his scale by the door, and started adding something to the charts. Wolfram borrowed the scale, and weighed Dannikin and Princess again. _She's lost two ounces. In how long_? _And she's three pounds lighter than Dannikin._

"Which one's he?" asked Trenton. "And how much does he weigh?"

The nurse showed him Dannikin's crib, and Trenton started a new sheet of paper for him, _Ogre baby boy #20, called Dannikin, TvG_. "Wow, I think he's the biggest. Unless they've all grown a pound in the past hour."

Wolfram had traded back to cuddling Princess, trying to coax her with some oatmeal-fortified milk. "May I see, Trenton? The master charts?"

"Dietrich has 'em," said Trenton. "Pixie room, sunny side two doors left. Could you tell him about Ogre #20? Manfred asked me to chart the time for all the dark rooms."

"Sure. Keep up the good work, Trent!" Wolfram ruffled his blond hair.

Wolfram found Dietrich with the charts, carefully filling in the new time field Manfred had requested. Wolfram added Dannikin to the ogre chart, and an extra weighing and time for Princess. Sure enough, the girl was way behind her peer group, though she did seem to be gaining interest in her bottle and her surroundings. Wolfram kept petting and stroking and murmuring to her, in between other things.

Manfred and Efram rejoined them from some other room. "Sure enough, the elf babies are growing much faster than elves normally do," Manfred said, then frowned at Princess. "Is that… a troll baby?"

"Chichiue! No, she's an ogre. But she's not doing well."

"No one said anything," said Manfred, taking the girl. "What's the problem, hm?"

"Oh, just blinders," said Wolfram. "She acts like a cooperative little demon baby, all quiet and sleepy. _They_ thought she was the best baby in the ogre room. _I_ think she's in trouble."

"Hm," said Manfred, handing the baby back to Wolfram, with a searching look at his son. "What do you think her problem is, Wolfram?"

"_Me?_ You're the healer!"

"So are you."

"But I don't know anything about ogre babies! Except, well – it's interesting that the baby thriving the most is Dannikin, who gets the most attention. And ogre babies act out so much, demanding attention. I think maybe… they need it?"

Manfred nodded thoughtfully. "What do you recommend?"

"_Me?_ Um." Wolfram panicked a little at the idea that it might be on his head, whether little Princess thrived or not. But then… it might really _be _on his head... "I think ogre babies need constant attention, touching. They shouldn't be left in their cribs. They need to be in someone's arms."

"Worth a try, well done," said Manfred. "Once you get that happening, I'd appreciate it if you'd examine the dragon eggs, too, Wolfram."

Wolfram noticed that in this discussion, his father had not once called him _'son'_ or _'pretty vixen'_, but only by name. This was such a rare event, he wasn't sure what to make of it. "But, Chichiue – I don't have any authority with these people!"

"Neither do I. Wolfram, do you remember that lecture I gave your public health class, while you were getting your nobility degree?"

Wolfram met his father's eye and nodded thoughtfully. "Our ability to do any good, in public health policy or in politics, is limited by our ability to persuade the people we're trying to help. But Chichiue, you're a reknowned healer…" Wolfram's voice died out as he was saying it. It's not as though his father started out famous. He earned it. "Alright. If I can't persuade them, I'll come back and ask your help."

Manfred smiled and nodded. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Pixie Girl #7 isn't keeping her food down."

-oOo-

"See, this is the _'control'_ chart, Chichiue," Dietrich explained to Aldrich, come up to visit during a break from his yardwork. "Chichiue Manfred interviewed the elves to make it. See how much faster our baby elves are growing than normal?" Aldrich looked impressed, and nodded a salute of respect at his stepson Efram over Dietrich's head.

Wolfram wandered by, explaining to a nurse, "Just like chicken eggs. If you want them to hatch, you keep them warm. If you want them to keep awhile, you keep them cool. _Believe_ me, we _don't_ want ten baby dragons hatching, just before Kristbane comes for them. Dragons bond instantly to whoever they're with when they hatch. It happened to my husband and me once. And I've spoken with Kristbane before – she has no sense of humor."

"You've seen a dragon hatch? And you talk to dragons?" said the nurse. "Wow, you really do know what to do about the eggs!"

Wolfram nodded confidently. "They'll be fine. Just room temperature - don't warm them. Kristbane should be here soon. What I'd like you to do is pack them carefully, in a single layer, for carrying." He caught his liege lord Aldrich's thoughtful eye on him and said, "Did you need me for something?" Aldrich shook his head, and Wolfram bustled off on his next mission.

"Our charts helped Wolfram fix the ogre babies," confided Dietrich.

"Oh, good for you, Diet, Efram! How'd they do that?" asked Aldrich.

Diet explained. He drew Aldrich by the hand, first to the troll nursery for comparison. There all the babies were happily swaddled in their cribs, sleeping or humming along while a very large troll woman sang to them. _Very troll._ Next Diet pulled his father to the ogre nursery. Each baby ogre was now glued to an adult, happily looking around and involved in life, immune to their nurses' dull suggestions that good little nocturnals were asleep at this hour.

By now, the nurses laughed at each other when they got zapped with ogre baby majutsu. "Aha! You weren't paying her enough attention, were you?" Princess, an earth maryoku ogre, had a troll-ogre woman as her personal love slave, and was now _'Ornk'_ing away happily with all the rest.

"See? She's put on three ounces," said Dietrich, proudly showing his father the cribside chart. "It was Efram's idea to do growth charts, and Wolfram figured out what was wrong, but… Trent and I really helped."

"You really did, Diet," said Aldrich, giving his son a big hug. "You and Trent led us to decide what kind of babies to ask for, too, didn't you? You've made _major_ contributions this trip!"

Dietrich grinned, happy to have earned the praise. Trenton crashed in, yelling, "Hey, Diet! The healers need sour fruits from the greenhouse. Come on!" Aldrich nodded, smiling, and the boys scampered away on their next important task.

Aldrich poked his head into a few more rooms. Greta was bossing goblins around, saying that her Chichiue Wolfram said the gnomes belonged in the garden, not a dark room. A thoughtful Aldrich left Greta to it.

Manfred was busy with another sick infant. So Aldrich sighed and got to work himself. He fetched a couple of his father's trained assistants up to the nursery and explained, in Trond concepts, how the charts worked, and why the boys were doing it. Efram intently studied how Aldrich explained things to a Trond viewpoint. Even a simple x,y plot was foreign quasi-religious territory to them. But Aldrich impressed them with the results so far, and convinced them that Friedrich and the other mathemagicians could find meaning in the numbers. Duly impressed, Friedrich's assistants accompanied Efram to study and practice the new arcane art of charting.

And Manfred was _still_ busy. Apparently it was still unclear whether sour fruits helped Pixie#7's digestion, and Wolfram was on that situation. But in the meantime Faun#9 and Centaur#6 had a collision, and broken bones and cracked hooves needed repair. Out of ideas for Lordly support services to render for the moment, Aldrich happily sat down next to his husband and healed the adorable faun.

As the babies cantered off to crash into some more things, Aldrich said to Manfred, "You know, that son of yours…"

"Efram? Yeah, he's done well."

"Efram, too! But I was speaking of Wolfram –"

"Dragons!" called a goblin at the door. "Lady Alana wants you, Lord Aldrich!"

Manfred chuckled. "Be sure to send up the foster parents _before_ you get to talking, please, love?" Aldrich agreed with a rueful dimple, and set off.

-oOo-

Wolfram left the crates of dragon eggs in the Tariel greenhouse, then he and Aldrich joined the others to greet the dragon Kristbane, just coming in for a landing. Garena had apparently stopped and picked up Ted von Trondheim on the way down to Kriegsbad, to help round up the foster parents and secure them on the dragon's back. After a subdued Ted shared brief embraces with his family, Aldrich bade him escort the foster parents straight up to the nursery.

Wolfram stepped forward to talk to Kristbane, the daunting lady war-chief of the dragons, who'd enforced the peace in Kriegsbad much of the past year. "/ _We have your ten dragon eggs. It is cold, so I left them in there. How do you want to proceed? Are there nests and foster parents ready, or should we keep them while you prepare?_ /"

"/ _Show me! _/" demanded Kristbane. She sidled up to the greenhouse, to gaze longingly down at the eggs within. "/ _You are right. Keep them slightly warm, like a spring day. One dragon at a time must come for the eggs. We need nesting grounds. Garena says we are invited to nest here._ /"

"/ _This needs discussion,_ /" said Wolfram.

"/ _There is no time. Nests must be built, and sitting-in begin, or the eggs die._ /"

Wolfram bowed understanding. "/ _Then we discuss quickly._ /"

Fortunately, Brendan Lord Gratz and Erick Lord Trondheim had already spent some time hashing out the details. And since time was pressing, Conrad and Wolfram were willing to make commitments on Gwendal and Yuuri's behalf. Soon Wolfram turned back to Kristbane.

"/ _We offer nesting grounds in return for help protecting the passes, protecting the rare races, rescue operations, and keeping the northern pass open in winter. These are not dragon reservations, but job offers. Understanding?_ /"

Kristbane snorted fire. Wolfram didn't blame her – it wasn't as though they had any easy way to enforce the agreement should the dragons outstay their welcome. Nevertheless, he believed Kristbane would honor her word. And as the most powerful of the dragons, she was their leader, to some extent. "/ _In return for eggs and nesting grounds and food, we work. We agree._ /"

"/ _No,_ /" clarified Wolfram. "/ _The eggs are yours, wherever you nest. We _also_ offer ten nests and food in exchange for work. Those who take nests, work for and obey Erick Lord Trondheim. Understanding?_ /"

Kristbane blinked long and slow, considering this. "/ _Where nests?_ /"

Wolfram decided it was a good sign that she was thinking more carefully about the deal. Yuuri may have been right – if Kristbane had agreed only in order to get the eggs, she might have felt perfectly justified double-crossing them, since the demons had no right to dragon eggs. He replied, "/ _Four nests each along Kriegsbad and Gratz Passes, two on the Escarpment._ /"

"/ _Three each on Passes, two Escarpment, two internal. One between here and troll reservation, one troll reservation far side. One extra nest each of those places, five more nests total. For dragon without egg. Yet. And if work for Erick, Erick needs translator._ /"

Wolfram consulted with the others. It was a hefty increase in habitat demand, but reasonable from Kristbane's perspective of dragon security. They agreed, and Erick stepped forward, with Friedrich as his translator, to seal the deal. Kristbane conveyed her own chosen nesting spot – the hottest of them all, at the base of Kriegsbad Pass, with a second nest for a friend facing hers across the Pass – and to their surprise, demanded her egg now.

Wolfram went in and pointed at several eggs, until Kristbane nodded at the one she wanted. He brought it out to her with a bow. "/ _Congratulations on your baby, Kristbane. I wish you both great happiness in your new home._ /"

Kristbane narrowed her eyes and inclined her vast head in respect. "/ _Friend you call Liesl arrives at midnight with pixie foster mother and priestess. She is happy if you bring her egg then._ /"

Wolfram's eyes widened. "/ _Little Liesl? Thank you for telling me!_ /"

Kristbane then took her precious egg in her mouth, and flew off into the night. She hadn't bothered to mention it, but fully half of those nests were already built, during the Dragon Insurrection. One just didn't feel quite safe, sleeping on duty station.

-oOo-

Commander Griesel left the Lords to their negotiations with Kristbane, once it was clear that the dragons would be part of the security equation. He eagerly headed up to the nursery to find Ted, holding up a wall in inscrutable contemplation of baby kobolds and gnomes. Wolfram was right, the shrill little gnome foster mother wanted greenhouse space.

Griesel snapped to attention with a grin, and saluted once-General Teodor von Trondheim smartly. "Good to see you, Sir!"

Ted looked away, with a face of stone. "The regular army does not salute local militia, Commander." Disgraced or not, and though never quite the pedant General von Dienst could be, Ted couldn't unbend enough to accept an improper salute, or being called _'Sir!'_

In fact, it hurt like hell.

"Ah, sorry, S – Lord von Trondheim," Griesel backpedaled. Ted acknowledged this with a curt nod. "I – It's just not right. The army misses you, S – Lord."

_Sergeant_ Griesel had served under Ted for a decade, and considered him an outstanding officer. Maybe not as good as von Dienst, and perhaps not quite the right man for the top job – Ted's trollish imperturbability didn't have quite the pizzazz to get men fired up to fight and die. But, Ted knew that, and worked well with his limitations as well as his strengths. He stood behind, the calm assured man-in-charge, absolutely dependable, and let his subordinates do the rabble-rousing. And Wolfram's machinations had provided Ted with Gregor von Dienst as one of those subordinates, within a year of Ted inheriting the top job, after Adelbert's treason. If von Dienst had studied Ted carefully, the reverse was equally true – Ted had mastered many of Adelbert and von Dienst's strengths. After Troll Mother entrolled Ted into deserting his post to be _her_ General instead, to lead her armies _against_ Shin Makoku, that was one of the worst problems von Dienst had to face – just how _much_ the army had depended on Ted. His commanders were demoralized and struck stupid with feeling _betrayed_.

"I'm surprised the General didn't have me executed," replied Ted. "I'm not sure I'd have been so generous, had our roles been reversed. Adelbert's exile certainly wasn't negotiable. At first."

Griesel saw that Ted… almost wished von Dienst _had_ executed him. And he didn't know what to say. After a long silence, he cleared his throat. "The General sent me with a detachment to strengthen your militia, Lord Teodor. I imagine you'll wish to consult with Lord Trondheim before meeting with me, but, I await your convenience. I hope to discuss how to deploy, coordinate, and possibly combine forces." He drew a letter from his tunic and smartly extended it to Ted.

"Thank you, Commander," said Ted. He nodded dismissal, then winced. "Old habits. Excuse me, Commander."

Griesel nodded. "I undestand _exactly_, S- Lord. At your convenience, then." He bowed to Lord Teodor, and departed.

Ted glanced at von Dienst's habitually tiny, crabbed handwriting, sighed, and thrust the letter into his tunic. Sure his eyes were made for nocturnal sight. He wore protective contacts in daylight, flicking them in and out with such practiced ease that most never noticed. But night-vision worked with very little light, so Trondish was written in large, blocky writing. He'd need a serious magnifying glass before he could hope to decipher _this_.

Manfred watched the exchange with growing concern, half his mind still on getting the gnome foster mother established. But at this point, he decisively excused himself from the gnome and walked over to Ted, first boffing shoulders with his old friend, then insisting on an embrace.

"I haven't sat down to eat all day," announced Manfred. "Share a meal with me, Ted."

"Nah, Manfred. You're busy here."

"Eh, plenty of good Trondheim nurses and healers, and I need a break. I've missed having you around. Got used to your company again, while we both lived at Blood Pledge, you know? Like old times." Though fifteen years older than Adelbert and Manfred, Ted joined the military at the same time, because the blonds signed up at the ridiculously young age of forty-five – unseemly for aristocrats. The three of them were nearly inseparable, until Manfred's injury forced him to retire around age ninety, when Wolfram was a baby. "C'mon, feed me."

Despite the demoralized Ted's best efforts, Manfred would not be brushed off. In the end, Ted introduced Manfred to his favorite mammoth stew joint down on the main concourse. The local specialty was rich, with chunks of Aldrich's signature Bielenfeld blue potatoes.

Ted had been living in a tent out in the snow for a week. He tried to use this as an excuse to escape to a hot bath before he got called on the carpet by his nephew Lord Erick. But Manfred just dragged him to the seven-tank men's mixed-racial baths. Manfred hadn't been to public baths in nearly a century. In fact, the last time was these very baths, when the adolescent military trio took their last stag vacation together, just before Shinou instructed Maou Cecilie von Spitzweg to conceive her third child with an obscure young officer from Bielenfeld.

"Erick's changed, Ted. He's not going to _'call you on the carpet'_," suggested Manfred, rocking a wooden toy duck that floated by.

"Because he's got his soul back together? Nah, Manfred, that just makes you more truly yourself, _whole_. I mean, I'm happy for him – he'll be a stronger and happier man for it. But never underestimate Erick, Manfred. He can be surprisingly ruthless."

Manfred frowned slightly. "Back up. Your soul _'back together… more truly yourself'_… You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Ted nodded, with a sad smile. "Big sister's first and bestest guinea pig. Yeah, Ilya sent me on a quest to reintegrate – the hard way."

"Wait, was this about ten years before I demobbed?" Manfred asked thoughtfully. Ted had been a month late getting back from vacation, said he'd fallen ill and had to lay over in Twinhall, coming back from the troll reservation. He'd changed then, changed a _lot_. He still looked bland and affable and trollish, but inside, he wasn't anymore. Before, he'd taken orders from Adelbert and Franklin like a puppy dog, eager to please. After, _nobody_ pushed him around. After one _'frank exchange of opinions'_, Manfred was fairly sure Franklin's black eye was authored by Ted's fist. If Manfred recalled correctly, the frank opinions were about the family disowning Ilya for joining Shinou's temple. After that, Ted made it clear that he was pursuing his life and career down below. He never broke with the family as Ilya did, but he insisted on adult respect and career backing from his family – and got it.

And it was _this_ troll – _the_ most successful open troll in all Shin Makoku, one of the most independent and self-determined trolls anywhere – whom Troll Mother had entrolled into committing treason, throwing away his life and career. She'd destroyed him without a second thought.

"It's a crime now, what Troll Mother did to you, Ted," Manfred said. "Your Aunt Anmari was sentenced last night to glanding and branding, for attempting to force Erick's will. Would have been executed for terrorism, too. But Erick left her a knife and a choice."

Ted nodded slowly. "Yeah, well. I'm sure he still has the knife."

Manfred stared at him. "_That_ wasn't my point."

"But it _was_ mine, Manfred," Ted asserted, in his mild steel way. "Speaking of which, this time, I'm leaving. Time for me to dress and face the music."

Manfred's steps dawdled on the way back to the nursery. He veered toward the Tariel greenhouse, and saw that Erick, Aldrich, and Wolfram were still there, with others. He'd thought to hand the matter of Ted to Aldrich, as usual. But his eye fell on Wolfram instead. He beckoned his son aside from the group, and told him his concerns.

Wolfram nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder if that doesn't turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy." At his father's questioning glance, he elaborated, "A man of Ted's talent, turned away by Shin Makoku, not able to mesh back into Trondheim. If he doesn't become part of the solution as a friend, he might be pushed into joining the enemy in truth." At his father's look of outrage, Wolfram waved this away. "Just musing out loud. Alright, I agree. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Lord Wolfram," Manfred said quietly, and headed back to the nursery. He said it so naturally that Wolfram simply turned to rejoin the others. Only after a moment did his head whiplash back over his shoulder in surprise. _First, calling me Wolfram. Now, 'Lord Wolfram'!? Huh…_

Erick was talking to Conrad, and Wolfram joined them. "Lord Erick, a word, if I may? The Maou was talking to Conrad and me about your uncle Ted on the trip here. He was very much looking forward to seeing him. Ted's rehabilitation is on his mind. There are… details to work out. But your uncle has Yuuri's absolute trust and confidence. Yuuri would consider it a _personal favor,_ if you would work toward reconciling Ted and the Shin Makoku army."

This was a bald-faced lie. Yuuri _had_ spoken of Ted on the way up – to Conrad, while Wolfram drifted in a dramamine haze. What he'd _said_, was that he hoped Ted wouldn't be at Trond Hall. Yuuri had promised General von Dienst that there would be no reconciliation for at least a year. And though he liked Ted, and felt bad for him, he wasn't sure how they'd be able to trust him again. Conrad had listened sympathetically, though he was more than a little surprised to hear Yuuri doubting whether he could trust a friend.

Aldrich overheard a little of this and shot a sharp glance at Wolfram. But on second thought, he decided to un-hear and walk away.

Conrad didn't skip a beat. "Yes, Yuuri's _trust_ is legendary. A powerful force for good."

Erick nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I do thank you for mentioning it, Lord Wolfram. I'm… surprised. Alright, then, perhaps we should insist on local control of the borrowed forces from Shin Makoku. We do have a highly capable general, with local expertise…"

Wolfram nodded solemn gratitude on the Maou's behalf. "Ah! Excuse me, Lord Erick, my next dragon is here. Come, Conrad, surely you remember Liesel?"

Of the many things done in Yuuri's name while he was asleep, _this_ act of the Royal Consort gave him the most pause. Firstly, that his beloved had deliberately and exactly reversed his wishes, _in Yuuri's name_. And secondly, that he'd done so in such a way to be more bravely… _Yuuri_… than Yuuri himself was willing to be in this instance. The firstly and secondly tended to chase each other around his head, like a puppy chasing his own tail, getting nowhere. So Yuuri ended up not really discussing the matter with Wolfram. Though of course, he spent an _excruciatingly_ long time on it with the irate General Gregor von Dienst. Thankfully, Gwendal elected not to touch the topic with a ten-foot stick.

Wolfram's leap of faith was not misplaced. _No one_ would ever entroll Teodor von Trondheim again. Troll women were warned, in Erick's monthly newsletter, and by Ted's staff, that the General _always_ kept troll-proof aides by his side, _never_ gave an order without them, and they had standing authority to _overrule_ any order he gave that might have been influenced. One would be well advised to not so much as soothe a child's temper tantrum where Ted might see it. His own mother disowned him for his attitude. And he didn't give a damn. And Alana and Erick backed him 100 percent.

-oOo-

The next day and night were equally eventful. Ilya arrived from Shinou's temple, on the same dragon who'd flown to the Khrennikov Fire Islands to pick up a fire pixie foster mom. She was most definitely _not _the _'ticked-off brainy adolescent'_ who'd left so many years before, just as Friedrich had promised Alana. In fact, the two women's age difference – only 75 years – had melted into insignificance. They soon became fast friends, Alana entranced by the advances Ilya had made in shamanistic theology. Aldrich and Murata spent long hours with them, hammering out the practicalities of widespread soul reintegration, without requiring Yuuri to remain in person. Ilya fell in love with a baby troll girl, and adopted her, home to stay in Trond Hall at last.

Erick protested loudly, each time yet another person said he was _sure_ to adopt Dannikin. Erick wanted a _girl_ ogre to go with his little son Vlad. But when Guya too fell to Dannikin's charms, Erick at last found time to visit the ogre nursery. He was laughing out loud with Dannikin in minutes, and relented. They adopted him on the spot.

Manfred was unsurprised to find that little Vlad'k'vriel von Trondheim was not on the same fast-track growth curve as the ghost babies. He was developing perfectly normally for an original, reincarnated Mazoku baby – which is to say, imperceptibly slowly. Little Dannikin was already over twice his size, and growing like a weed. But for whatever reason, Dannikin and Vlad seemed to hit it off from the start, provided of course that Dannikin never _ever_ lacked for attention. But he flamed the adults for failures in that department, not his rival Vlad.

Once the greenhouse was ready, the fauns and centaurs moved out there, along with all the gnomes and pixies. Wolfram had been right about Pixie#7 – her stomach didn't have enough acid. Her foster mom needed only to make minor further adjustments to her food, and kept her strictly upright for a day, no lying down, and Pixie#7 was growing like all the rest.

Tariel and Salix moved a number of trees into the field greenhouse, including a dogwood and pussy willow from other glass pyramids. And though she was too shy to talk, and still rather disoriented from her revival, the field nymph Edelweiss could often be glimpsed visiting. Regardless of the deep winter outside, she ensured that, just for this year, inside that greenhouse it remained alpine spring. People generally didn't go into the field folk's home without an invitation, but the Trond Hall general public was entranced. The tropical pyramid next door got rather crowded with onlookers. The faun Freerie demanded a few walls here and there, for privacy. The pixie and gnome foster mothers got increasingly unhappy with how _pushy_ Freerie was, and moved into a flower pyramid together, leaving the fieldhouse for the _hoofy_ ones. They preferred gardens to fields, anyway.

-oOo-

In a quiet moment, Aldrich pulled his vassal Wolfram aside for a chat. A year ago, following Wolfram and Yuuri's brief meltdown and reconciliation, Wolfram promised Aldrich that he'd find a career outside his rather neurotically Yuuri-centric castle life. These good intentions had been derailed by Troll Mother and the Dragon Insurrection. Aldrich said he intended to speak with Wolfram about _concrete plans_ when they returned to Blood Pledge Castle, to get that initiative off stall.

"Wolfram, you amazed me yesterday, in the nursery, with the dragons, with Erick and Ted. This clinging to Yuuri – I just don't buy it anymore. And now that Manfred's on his feet again, I can't tell you how many requests I get for him to consult on public health and welfare. You would _excel_ at that, especially for these rare races. And – face it. You're _young_. Yeah, I live a nice settled middle-aged lifestyle in my castle, puttering in my garden. But you and Yuuri should get _out_ more, enjoy some adventures. You two_ love_ that stuff. So enjoy it while you're young! And in public health – it can be _your_ work, and sometimes _Yuuri_ tags along for a change, hm? Think about it."

"But… with another baby on the way… and they're little for such a short time!" Wolfram objected.

"_Bullshit._ Mazoku children take _forever_ to grow up. And with children, believe me, absence really _does_ make the heart grow fonder. Cross-foster 'em, Bielenfeld style. It's great for them, great for you, great for the parents you swap off with. In fact, with all this baby action going on, I think Manfred and I may line up some cross-fosterings while we're here. You and Yuuri might not even bother – you've got them built in, with Gwendal and Annissina and Adelbert. Anyway… think about it. We're on vacation now. But I'd like us to work on solid plans when we get back."

Wolfram tried to talk himself into being insulted at Aldrich's heavy-handedness. But it didn't work. In truth, it felt good – _really_ good! – to have his father call him _'Lord Wolfram'_ as an equal, Conrad follow his lead, nurses and Erick take his counsel. He never intended to… _hide_ behind Yuuri. And Aldrich was only asking that he find a way to be a Lord in his own right, make his own noble contribution to society. And though Wolfram would never put such ahead of Yuuri or his children, it really was what he wanted for himself.

So he did think about it. He thought about it a _lot_. And he started thinking about it out loud, with Greta, and of course _she_ talked about it with Efram and the boys.

-oOo-

That next night was also the one Troll Mother arrived. She absent-mindedly confirmed Ted's suspicions about a cabal forming amidst the Daughters, in strong reaction to Troll Mother considering whether to dissolve the boundaries of the troll reservation and just blend into Trondheim again, as Yuuri had offered to allow.

But Troll Mother wasn't terribly interested in the question. She was too entranced by the babies, rapt at the explanations of what the ghosts were, how they came to be, and how Ilya and Murata hoped to fix it, for all the ghosts, not just these few, and to heal the souls of all the already incarnate Tronds as well.

Tariel and Salix quietly joined the group talking to Troll Mother along the way. When the sky lightened toward dawn, and Troll Mother headed for her very large bedroom in lower Trond Hall, Tariel gave her a warm embrace and a kiss on the check.

Troll Mother smiled, dimples stretching her face wide. "Yes, yes. It is redeemed at last, isn't it, Tariel? Redeemed at last. Ah, I'm so tired. It will be good to lay this down. Too long, too long. I'm so glad you have Salix now, sweet Tariel."

"Sleep well, Tanya, my best friend," said Tariel, with a rare warm smile.

Princess Tanya Troll Mother died in her sleep that morning, at the astonishing old age of four thousand one hundred and seventeen, having finally seen what she had waited and worked so long for. Though trolls could hibernate, and that's how Troll Mother had managed it, even so it was remarkable for a troll to live to age _one_ thousand. Only her indomitable will, her _absolute_ refusal to accept anything less than the restoration of her people, had kept her going for so very, very long.

But as she'd said, now _it was redeemed._

Alana decided not to have Tanya rendered as sausage. It was winter – fresh meat could be transported safely. It was better that _everyone_ who wished to, could partake in this death feast. Sausage was just too limiting. For Troll Mother was very literally the mother of her people. Anyone with troll blood, had it from _her_. And the other races of Trondheim joined in death feasts as well, the shamanistic ritual of taking on one's share of the departed's roles in life. So Troll Mother was cut into pieces and delivered throughout the land, so that even the smallest halls got a piece, to be made into soup. A date was set one week hence, for a simultaneous death feast throughout Trondheim at midnight.

But that first morning, and until summer, the dogwood and pussy willow bloomed in the field house, to honor her passing.

-oOo-

_OK, hopefully one or two more chapters and this one's a wrap. If you have anything in particular you want included, speak now…_

_Although, actually this chapter might work as an ending… A bit short shrift on the honeymoon aspect, though._

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

_Please review?_


	15. Valentine's Day

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 15 – Valentine's Day**

Yuuri seemed to drift endlessly, expanding outward somehow. Bubbles still drifted in his vast clear space here and there. Some he poked with a finger and they popped in a prismatic rainbow. He got great satisfaction from that, and felt refreshed. Others bounced back and remained resolutely themselves. He saluted them and moved on. None of this made any conscious sense to him at all. But that was alright. He wasn't conscious, anyway. Sometimes more aware, sometimes less, expanding outward and outward, he drifted in a greatly satisfied OKness.

Until suddenly he was in his family room back in Tokyo. Shinou sat on the sofa, arms agressively flung wide across the sofa back, muddy boots propped on the coffee table, Morgif jammed into the upholstery, channel-surfing on the DVR remote.

"Ah! We don't… wear shoes indoors in Japan," objected Yuuri. "My mother's going to… _humiliate_ you!"

Shinou laughed, blue eyes dancing merrily at Yuuri. "Yeah, _that's_ what's wrong with this picture! Oh, Wimpue, you're a_ riot!_"

"Wimpue…" Alarm bells went off in Yuuri's... mind? "_Bertram!_ Has something happened to Bertram?"

"Of course not," said Shinou, back to casually flicking channels. "Your understanding of souls is still too… _integer_. Soul is… _real_. In the mathematical sense. Bertram's soul is me, but he's not _all _of me. More like… a leading edge, the tip of a twig on a substantial tree. Soul is… _bigger_ than your little ego-self."

Yuuri grasped a piece of this, but not quite the whole. But his attention was distracted by the pictures on the TV. "Hey, slow down, back up!" he cried. The last image he'd barely registered before Shinou clicked on by. A huge man, maybe troll or ogre, being inducted as Maou at Blood Pledge Castle.

Shinou snorted and just kept on channel surfing. "Nah, just another future. I gotta say, though, you've got _guts,_ Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Fuuri! Even if I'd _known_ how, I'm not sure I would've had the _cajones _to restore all those races that are more powerful than demons, like you just did. Lots of new channels, though. Especially on the Bielenfeld network." The TV screen briefly showed an epic aerial battle above the Trondheim Escarpment, a veritable army of dragons spewing fire, villages being torched, a closeup of an elf child running, screaming, clothes ablaze. Yuuri cried out in anguish, arm shooting toward the screen.

"Tsk-tsk, Wimpue, you should know better than that. There's an infinity of channels – don't tune in to a horror movie." Shinou just clicked on past to a scene of a Mayday celebration, flower-bedecked fauns dancing round a maypole. Then a trio of demon women gossiping over laundry. Then some humans trying to retrieve something that fell down a well.

"Oh, _hey!_ Before I forget – the Valentine's chocolates are from Bertram, for his _adored_ Chichiue Wolfram!" Shinou toed an enormous, elegantly befrilled red heart-shaped box of imported European chocoates. "Sorry, he didn't get you anything. You forgot Valentine's Day, didn't you, _bad_ Wimpue! Tsk-tsk! Good thing _I'm_ on the ball, huh? And_ this,_" Shinou leaned over and picked up a single long-stemmed red rose, in a cut crystal bud vase. He inhaled slowly, eyes half-closed in a romantic memory, expression suggesting the memory wasn't entirely PG-rated, "_this_ is for my beloved Daikenja. You'll give both gifts for me, won't you? Don't _forget_, Yuuri! And they're from _me_, not _you!_ So don't you dare try to take the credit.

"But back to what I was saying," Shinou continued, his monologue as disjointed as the maddening succession of images on the TV, "you'll have noticed, of course, that by relieving yourself of all those souls within, your power _increased_, not decreased. In fact, we've finally inverted the tree altogther, as the nymphs began so long ago, and usurped Soushu's position completely. So, how's it feel to be God, huh?"

Yuuri snatched the DVR remote away from him and thwacked it across his boots. "Get your _feet_ off the coffee table! I'm not_ God_. I'm a perfectly ordinary guy from Tokyo!"

Shinou cracked up laughing, the belly-splitting, sofa-arm thumping, howling type of laughter. "Oh, is _that_ where you're from! _Tokyo!"_ He wiped tears of mirth out of his eyes. "Yeah? I'm from a dirt-poor farm in what's now Spitzweg. Left as a kid to join a mercenary troop. My eulogists had the sense to edit that out." He chuckled some more. "_Tokyo!_"

Yuuri twitched. "You said you brought me here to tell me something, and instead you're babbling! Did you do this to Cecilie?"

"No, Cecilie didn't try to understand me with her mind. It's just not what your mind, or even your _Yuuri_, is good for, you know? It's for_ this._" With a sudden serious turn, Shinou plucked up the rose bud vase, smelled it again, lightly stroked a petal with the feather touch of a lover, and nodded a private smile. "Yeah, for _that._" He sighed, and his mood shifted again, "Here at the whole, we are God, and powerful, but here at the instance, the self, we grow and experience, appreciate and feel. Like the trunk of a great tree, it's mostly dead wood, a thin living layer under the bark maintaining the sap, up and down, the eternal dialogue between the living and the divine. But only at the root tips and the budding tips of twigs and the leaves, does the tree _grow_. Of course, I've spent too much time with Quercus these past four thousand years. But you solved _that_, huh?"

Yuuri twitched again. He'd started to understand, and then Shinou took another damned left turn! "_'Quercus'?_"

"Ah, that's right, you only know Tariel. He's a minor nymph, you kow. Though, he's grown incredibly from all this. Well, spiritually, of course. His _tree_'s still puny, but Quercus, the great oak, is impressed. Oh, you met Ponderosa, too. Well, most of land-based life is plant, you can't expect to understand while you're focused on being an animal, can you? Your viewpoints have nothing to offer each other at the moment.

"But, Quercus. He used to be internal, but you've set him free, so you'll have to start a new dialogue. Or did you think the mercenary from the dirt farm in Spitzweg could read the future, hm?" Shinou was smiling at him, in a friendly rather than manic way. For the moment. "So tell Daikenja – this is important! – tell him to take it all, _all_ the souls, set them _all_ free. Because he's not sure, you see. He thinks setting loose all the souls with their life maryoku attached, will let go all the power, the universe within you. But that's backwards, it's like stuffing a grown dragon back into the egg. Where the eggshell landed up doesn't matter anymore. So be sure to tell Daikenja – set them _all_ free, and don't hold back. That's an act of pure love, you see. The other is an act of fear. And we've seen enough of _those_ movies."

Shinou sighed. "You won't remember it all. But you'll have the gifts, and in giving them, you'll remember enough." Yuuri picked up the vase and the heart box, the latter nearly as long as his torso. "That's right. Daikenja can come talk to me himself." He went back to channel surfing with the remote, then started chuckling. "Tokyo. _Tokyo!_ Haha!

"_Haha! HAHA-hahaa-HAHA-haha-HAHA-hahaha-HAHA!..."_

-oOo-

Shinou's heebie-jeebie cackling mercifully died out, and Yuuri found himself back in Trond Hall. In a hallway, fully dressed, clutching a giant candy box and a cut crystal vase. "Spitzweg, huh?" Yuuri muttered sourly. "I could have _sworn_ he was from Bielenfeld." But just why he said so, was receding from him, a dream breaking up upon waking.

He _wasn't_ wearing nightglasses. He stumbled forward in the ruddy blackness, scraping a shoulder along a wall for orientation, and stubbed his toe into a table.

"_Ai! Ow-ow-ow!_"

"Yuuri, Sire? You're up!" The female voice sounded familiar, but not enough so that Yuuri could place it, in his extreme disorientation. Some footsteps wandered away and headed back.

"The rose is for Daikenja from Shinou, the chocolates are for Wolfram from Bertram," Yuuri reminded himself. "Oh, and it's Valentine's Day. I can't forget. _Shit_, I need something romantic for Wolfram for Valentine's Day…"

"A romantic dinner perhaps?" suggested another woman's voice.

Yuuri hadn't realized he was speaking aloud. A hand placed nightglasses on his face. Suddenly he could see Alana, Ilya, and Guya, each with an enormous baby slung over a hip, all highly amused.

"Um," said Yuuri. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday. You've been asleep nearly four days, Sire," said Alana.

"Wednesday? The _date,_" said Yuuri, anxiously. "It's February - ?"

"February fourteenth?" hazarded Guya.

"Thank you!" said Yuuri, heartfelt, placing a hand on her arm. "I'm not too late! I have to find Wolfram. Oh, wait, no." He stared at the rose. "I can't let him see this, the rose is for Murata."

Three pairs of eyebrows rose. Ilya spoke, troll dimples at maximum grin. "Well, aren't _you_ the brave one! Going up against Wolfram _and_ Giesela!"

Yuuri made a strangled noise in his throat. Yeah, he could picture that, too. "No! That's – the rose is for Murata from Sh – someone else. Ah, I need to talk to Murata before Wolfram. But I need… yeah, a romantic dinner… to make it up to Wolfram. What's the most romantic, elegant restaurant in Trond Hall? Like, for a demon?"

"Oh, leave it to _me!_" cried Guya. "I know _just_ the place, Sire! How about… 7'o'clock? It's, ah, 4'o'clock now." Ilya and Alana were looking at her askance. There were no elegant restaurants, demon or otherwise, in Trond Hall. But Guya'k'vriel was grinning, so they shrugged. Erick and Guya were kindred spirits in the ham department. "Murata's in the field house. I'll take you. We can hide the gift for your _other_ date along the way."

With the elven spy Guya acting as guide, Yuuri made it to the field greenhouse unseen. She begged off, saying she'd go make reservations. "See you at 6:30, in your room, dressed in your best, OK? I'll come get you there. Oh, and Sire? This might be a little bit _expensive_."

Yuuri waved this away as of no consequence. "Price is no object. Actually, Guya… I don't have time to shop, either. If you happen to see something…?"

"Such as..?"

"Ah…"

"You're the _'top'_ of this couple, aren't you, Sire. Well, just leave it to me!" And Guya wandered off humming.

Yuuri couldn't recall seeing this flat grassy greenhouse before, but it sure was lucky that Trond Hall had one. The little fauns and centaurs were frolicking happily. They were… huge. He swallowed a sudden Rip-van-Winkle panic, especially seeing the dogwood in bloom – but, yes, relief! Alana had said four days. Gads… four days was bad enough. He wondered if Wolfram would ever let him live it down.

Murata wandered out of a… stable? hand in hand with a baby centaur. "Ah, Murata! This is for you. Happy Valentine's Day!" Murata stared at him, and blandly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, drawing his free hand _away _from the profferred romantic gift. "Aha. It's from _Shinou_. Not _me_," Yuuri clarified. Murata tilted his torso _away_ from Yuuri, but did extend a hand to reluctantly take the vase. "I'm supposed to tell you… Take _all_ the souls from me. My power will increase, not decrease? Shinou'd rather talk to you about it himself, though. Um, I don't know how that part happens. Maybe the rose."

The twenty-two-year-old guys contemplated the red rose of desire hanging between them. The baby centaur, catching the weird vibe, got shy and huddled her torso onto Murata's thigh.

"Well. Thank you, Shibuya-kun." They stared at the rose another moment. "Oh, I'd like you to meet my adopted daughter. Lucy, this is Shibuya-san."

Lucy hid her face altogether. Yuuri knelt down on the spring grass, and tried gently scratching the black curly hair between her ears and horns. "Hello, Lucy. You've gotten big fast, huh? Won't your mother Giesela be pleased to meet you!" Yuuri had some doubts on that score, but eh, she'd get over it. Gradually Lucy started sneaking peeks at him, and two hooves stepped forward a little. "Yeah, you'll like living at Shinou's Tomb. There's a big grassy field."

"I plan to stay here," said Murata. "To finish what we've started. Franklin and I."

Yuuri nodded, meeting his friend's eye with a soft smile. Lucy stepped toward him again, and then all in a rush came and flung her little arms around his neck. "Yeah, an act of love, instead of fear. That's what Shinou said, Murata. All the souls, no holding back, as an act of love. Have you figured out how to do it yet? Another Shinou's Fountain?"

"Vladimir's Fountain. There's a geyser grotto in Trond Hall – you've seen it? Ilya and I will invest it, drawing the souls from you. Then, we've worked out a three day ritual, spiritual preparation, ritual bathing, contemplation of what one wants to be relieved of, what one asks the waters of the ancestors to wash clean. Ilya and Aldrich think the spiritual format will help adults work through the soul reintegration more gently. We'll have shamans on staff all the time to lead pilgrims through the process, here at Vladimir's Grotto.

"But we're also doing a road show, visit all the halls, and leave behind vials of Vladimir's water, to anoint newborns into the death-song of the ancestors. Kind of a major religious movement. We're hoping to recruit around a dozen Apostles from your first converts at Boom Falls. Then Garena's team follows up with birthing each hall's allotment of the ghost treeborn. Lady Alana's preparing the baby budget. Lord Aldrich wanted them all born by October. But Alana and Erick suggested one baby per hall by October, would be fast enough."

"That would be amazing," agreed Yuuri. "Oh! So that our – I see." So that Yuuri and Wolfram's child, and Aldrich and Manfred's two, would be seen as part of the vast miracle of the treeborn babies of Trondheim, a closing grace note. "Well, care to fill me in on what else I've missed?"

"I'll let your Lords do that," Murata demurred. So Yuuri took his leave. Lucy had long since gotten bored of the conversation and joined a game of tag. Murata contemplated the rose a little longer, then lay down on the sunlit grass, in the bubble of spring within the mountain winter, and closed his eyes.

-oOo-

Once Yuuri was out of the field house, and Murata's eyes were closed, Dietrich and Trenton scampered in to collect the next item for Guya's scavenger hunt – pussy willows, dogwood blossoms, and alpine wildflowers. They were supposed to pick flowers from the main cutting flower greenhouse, but for some reason, they were all gone. But the boys figured Wolfram would like the nymph flowers.

"Next on the list is six sporks," said Dietrich, "and three wine glasses and three water glasses. We have to get receipts for those so we know where to return them. Why threes, you think?"

"In case one gets dropped or something?" guessed Trenton. "We can find all that in the demon quarter, after we leave the flowers with the girls."

-oOo-

"The door says elven women's baths, Manfred," Aldrich pointed out.

Manfred shrugged. "I reserved it."

Aldrich pursed his lips, eyeing Manfred sideways, but pushed into the room. "Oh, my…" Aldrich had never been in this bath before. Well, possibly with Franklin on a dare a couple centuries ago, but he didn't remember it. It was gorgeous!

The bath vaults at the troll end of the Hall favored a cavelike décor. But this one was plastered and painted for an airier look. The tan walls had arches of white molding, framing murals depicting rich summer gardens and blue skies beyond the arches. Against this backdrop was the _entire _flower productive output of Trond Hall, in vases about the room, interspersed with lush potted plants. Rose petals and _'elf islands'_, the large frondy privacy buoys, floated in the two bath tanks. A number of screens were arranged here and there, suggesting more intimate little areas, with private pleasures beyond. Troll musicians hid somewhere, strings and multi-voice, performing one of Aldrich's favorite Trond composers.

"You're overdressed," whispered Manfred. He undid Aldrich's ponytail, combing his fingers through his wavy hair. Aldrich's barber thinned it substantially, mostly pruning the blue out of the blond. "You should wear your hair short. It'd be prettier. It's too stiff this way, too… _Lord_ all the time. Your father never gave in to that style. Well, up to you." He bowed Aldrich to the first of the screens, apparently to undress. "I'll meet you in the pool when you're ready. Take your time."

Aldrich's quizzical eye was on Manfred as he turned into his dressing area. So he stopped up short when he turned and faced three lady elves inside. These bowed and drew him in. He undressed himself, and tied a towel around his waist. Then they sat him in a reclining chair for the luxury beauty treatment – manicure, pedicure, shave, and hot towels. After much discussion, he agreed to go ahead and have the sideburns shaved off, and his hair cut as short as his father's, except for the bangs. Trolls never had bangs. They annoyed his mother no end, so he couldn't part with them.

"So_ satiny_," admired one of the elves, running a finger down his shin. "Have you ever tried waxing, to go_ all the way_ smooth?" The others chimed in, elven sensual innuendo turned to maximum, on how much better it felt _in the act_, to _slide_ so _smoothly_. They wore him down, until he laughingly gave in.

At last he wandered out, to find Manfred – also freshly barbered – lounging by the side of the pool, green eyes dancing appreciation of Aldrich from head to foot. "Whoa. You look gorgeous! Oh… I have something for you." He handed over a jewelry box, as Aldrich sat on the lip of the pool beside his lounger.

Aldrich gasped as he opened the box. "Tourmalines? Sweet Shinou, Manfred, that's the largest tourmaline I've ever seen." There were two ear studs and a matching cravat broach, in stunning faceted blue-green, set in pure gold.

Manfred sat up and put his knees around Aldrich's torso, playing with his freshly shortened hair. "I thought they'd bring out the color of your hair and eyes – let's see? Mm, yeah, that works well! _And_, I'll have you know, the specifications for this jewelry were _completely_ vetted by your valet. You are allowed to wear them. If you like them." They both laughed.

"I love them, thank you! Do I dare wear the ear studs in the baths?"

Manfred put them on him. Then he shed the towels and drew Aldrich into the hot tub, down several steps until they were both chin-deep, on different steps. "Floor," he said, pointing. Aldrich gazed in delight. He hadn't noticed – the mosaic at the bottom of this tank was a wind-carved cypress tree, just like Aldrich's fire majutsu signature. "The other tank is a phoenix. Alana had these baths redone."

"Wow, Manfred – this just goes on and on!" And it did. After a hot soak, there was a luxurious dinner, of Aldrich's favorite Trond foods. There were troll masseuses. They splashed in the hot pool until they were too hot. Dumped some snow into the other pool and dove into that, then back to the hot pool. And eventually Manfred sent the servants away.

"Mm, servants gone so we can make love here?" suggested Aldrich.

"Nope. Our bath scene days are over – we will make love in _bed_," declared Manfred. He brushed Aldrich's dripping bangs back from his forehead. "You were telling me the other day, about getting in touch with your feminine side. But like everything else this trip, we got sidetracked." They both laughed. "So… the theme tonight was to coddle your inner woman and inner troll. Spread over a week would have been better, but it seemed best to do the works while we had the chance. And then the parts of it you like, we can do again."

"I like. I loved it all. Thank you, Manfred!" They shared a deep kiss, and Aldrich tried rubbing a smooth hairless leg against Manfred's. "Ooh! They shaved you too…"

"Breathe a word and _die_, my liege," warned Manfred. "But yeah… feels really slinky, doesn't it? Oh, one more treat. Well, two, but you get the last when we leave."

Manfred retrieved three candle ducks from behind a screen and launched them into the pool. Aldrich laughed out loud and _whooshed _the flotilla alight. "Where are the rest of them? C'mon, Manfred, there's more than three ducks!"

"Nope, a strict three-duck limit. Have a heart, Aldrich, this tank is harder to clean than our bathtub at home. Ack! Don't set our pretty new haircuts ablaze! Hey, this evening is supposed to be about your feminine, _nurturing_ side. Duck murderer."

-oOo-

"What on earth?" Erick poked his head into a conference room near his office, only to see Cecilie von Spitzweg, hanging out of a skin-tight little black dress, giggling and blowing a kiss at Greta, to howls of laughter from Alana, Ilya, and Yozak. "Va-_voom_, Guy! Nice outfit!"

"Oh, _please,_ handsome! Call me _Cheri!_" Guya crooned, sticking Cecilie's bust into his chest, and petting his face down to look into the cleavage. Erick laughed. For it was indeed Guya, showing off her elf glamours for Greta. "We're just planning a little… _entertainment_… for Yuuri and Wolfram. To celebrate their _honeymoon._" She planted a kiss on his cheek, which would have left a very red splotch if lipstick could rub off an elf glamour.

"That's _amazing!"_ cried Greta, clapping her hands in glee. "But Cheri was at the wedding. Oh, it's too bad you don't know Wimpue's – I mean Yuuri's – family."

"Ah, I believe we've met," said Shibuya Shouma, Yuuri's father, scratching his head. Then Shibuya Miko was mock-slapping the air. "Oh, _Uma_-san. Of course we're here for Yuu-chan," she said. Then Shibuya Shouri stiffly pushed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But they haven't… _consummated_… anything." Then Annissina stood before them, whipping her high red ponytail around, eyes gleaming maniacally. "Whoever we need, my special majutsu-powered invention _Impersonatrix-kun,_ can deliver! All I need is someone to power it. _Gwendal!_" Her husband Gwendal hid his face in hand, turned the other way. "I don't know this woman," he bit out. Then Gunter appeared, hands joined above his forehead as if in prayer to the heavens, "But what shall we say? A paean to the glory that is His Majesty! We shall each gather round and sing his praises! And ignore the blond!" Their flametop foster daughter Frieda chimed in next, toes slightly turned inward, little fists on hips belligerantly. "_I_ wasn't invited, so _they're_ not married yet. They just have to do it over!" She was displaced by toddler-chubby Bertram, in a pink nightgown, "Chewy?_ Chewy!? CHEWY!!!_" He ran to jump on Greta, who was shrieking laughter, only to turn into Guya again, laughing out loud.

"Sorry, you can't feel a glamour," she said, shrugging. She turned back to Erick. "We're relieving wealthy tourists of cash. Yuuri wants a romantic evening with Wolfram. I haven't figured out Wolfram's gift yet, though."

"Them, too?" said Erick. "Excellent! I just lightened Manfred's wallet, by a _stunning_ amount. You should see the extra tourmaline broach I talked him into." He held up fingers to indicate how_ large_ that tourmaline was. The women _oooh'd_ – that was a _lot_ of money! "_And_… I saw another at the jeweler's, orange green and blue like Aldrich's fire healer signature. But Manfred was heard to say… _'Nah, that looks like _Wolfram's _signature, I want matching blue-green for Aldrich.'_ Bet it's still there, waiting for an _extremely_ wealthy buyer…"

"I'll go get it right now, shall I?" said Alana, grinning.

The Lord and Lady of Trondheim involved themselves personally in such games for good reason – Trondheim was starved for cash, especially in the mountains. Each hall was essentially a commune, and between halls a barter economy reigned. What little cash they earned from their exports down below, was swallowed paying for imports down below, mostly of food. They didn't get many tourists. And here was a batch of rich ones, who they were honor-bound to host for free. Manfred was well aware of this balance of payments, and splurged intentionally. Yuuri… was getting fleeced.

"And what were you doing in the jewelry shop, my husband?" inquired Guya. "Oh, Vlad, Dannikin, I think your father was shopping for a wedding ring for me…"

"Mm, I'd better get back to work," said Erick with a grin, and ducked out.

"We should get back to work, too," said Ilya. "Not much time left. What else we can sell His Majesty for his perfect romantic evening?"

"Oh, I have an idea!" said Yozak. "Greta, wouldn't Wolfram just _adore_ a deep-piled, luxuriant fur coat?"

-oOo-

"Did you get my rose?" said Shinou, his hand stroking Daikenja's cheek.

Murata resolutely re-asserted his Murata body in this dreamworld, instead of Daikenja's. "Yes, thank you, old friend."

Shinou sighed. "Just a friend now, huh?"

"How else?"

"Point taken." The purplish haze resolved into a forest clearing by a pretty stream – in what was now Walde, if Murata recalled the spot correctly. Shinou settled onto a sun-dappled boulder. "Alright, business then. Did you have any remaining questions about the ghosts?"

Murata considered. "I'm concerned about how many ghosts will be left over, because they can't incarnate into other races."

"All Mazoku can incarnate into any Mazoku race," corrected Shinou.

"But Franklin said –"

"How would Franklin know? And not even Franklin – you were only talking to his ghost. Well, and his other half briefly, but you didn't realize the light wolf was the truer half, did you?"

"What?" Murata looked alarmed. Had he misunderstood?

"When the souls split, the part Soushu sucked in, with most of the life force still attached, had very little of the personality, the soul-experience. That identity, bereft of life force and its eternal nature, became a ghost. A complete soul has no race. It's the life maryoku, still manifesting as the light wolf, that hasn't completed its span, that prevents the ghosts from transmigrating at will. They can only incarnate as the race they were. They can draw on some of the soul in the light wolf, but until Yuuri releases it, that life force is still bound to him."

"Now I see…" said Murata. "That's why…"

"Thank you, old friend," said Shinou. "I wish I thought you were done fixing all my mistakes. You don't have to. Yuuri can do it. But… thank you, for continuing to help."

And Murata woke to Lucy tickling his nose with a flower, and hugged her. He wondered how old she'd been when her life so long ago was interrupted, and whether her memories of that other childhood would live for her alongside the memories of this one, as his child.

-oOo-

Greta escorted her very irritable Chichiue Wolfram to his room, only minutes after Guya whisked Yuuri out of it. On the bed, instead of the expected Yuuri, was laid out his very finest clothes, brought along just in case – the same outfit he'd worn to Kieran von Donaghie's ball a year ago.

"Greta," he said gently – he was almost always gentle with his daughter, "where's Yuuri."

"Waiting for you for your date tonight! Hurry up and get dressed, Chichiue. The sooner you're dressed, the sooner you'll see him!"

"He's alright?" Wolfram grasped her arms in anxiety.

Greta nodded, grinning. "And eager to see you!"

"Good. Then I'll kill him," said Wolfram. But he swooshed Greta into the hall while he dressed to the nines, then let her escort him to the tropical greenhouse. There Yuuri waited, dressed in his own best, by the outer door.

"You look beautiful, love," Yuuri said, giving Wolfram a kiss.

"Yuuri… what's going on?"

"One romantic evening. To make up for… not quite the honeymoon you had in mind," said Yuuri. "Ah! Your coat!" And he presented the first gift of the evening, a deep luxuriant fur coat, brown and silver stripey, with a fluffy collar up to the ears, swinging down nearly to the knees. With matching hat and hand-warmer. Yozak's idea. "Ah, apparently, we're taking a sleigh ride to get there."

"Oh! For me?" Wolfram was entranced, and let Yuuri envelope him in the coat. "Thank you!"

Next, they went out to a little sleigh, driven by an elf in von Trondheim livery, drawn by a sheep with bells on its giant horns. The sleigh took the long way round, down the end, around the back, then back along the front of Trond Hall, nearly circumnavigating the city-building. They stopped at the central glass pyramid, only half the length of the Hall from where they began. It was a beautiful ride, though, snuggled into furs.

Next, they entered the flower glass pyramid – though denuded of flowers this evening. Though the Tronds preferred it dark, stars gleaming through the windows, they'd arranged a grotto at the center with flaming torches. There stood a single table, a band of musicians, and a dance floor.

Yuuri's mouth hung slightly open. But Wolfram grasped his arm, "Oh, _Yuuri!_ This is so _romantic!_ _Thank you! _Oh, and wood nymph flowers for me! You're so thoughtful!"

"Ah… anything for you, love." _Anything indeed, _he thought. _And why are there _three_ seats at this table…_

And the culprit herself appeared, dressed in her usual indoor many-buckled sprayed on leathers, in scarlet-traced brown this evening. "Good evening, Sire, Lord Wolfram! Since His Majesty has been very busy with deep spiritual matters these past few days," _he's been asleep,_ "we've consulted with your daughter Greta to plan this evening's entertainment. As I understand it, the theme of this honeymoon was a bit of a cross with a wedding reception, since some family members weren't able to attend the actual ceremony." _Wolfram failed to invite his father or any relatives from his father's side. Yuuri's family wasn't invited, either. _"So this evening, we've planned a little cross between a romantic dinner for two, and a family reception."

Yuuri bit his lip, imagining the kind of lame romantic plan Greta would come up with. But Wolfram looked delighted.

"But first, Sire, if you could step this way a moment?" Guya showed him the stunning multi-colored tourmaline broach, which was indeed exactly colored to match Wolfram's signature maryoku. "Before we show this to Wolfram, I was thinking it would be best to look over the bill, Sire… Of course, if this is too much, we could still return the broach and the furs. And send the musicians home, perhaps…"

For Yuuri had gasped at the numbers. In _yen_, it might not be so bad… Guya smiled hopefully, and murmured. "We have many new children and immigrants, troops and dragons in Trondheim this winter, Sire. And very little cash to buy more food. Transporting it into the mountains in winter is… pricey."

Yuuri met her eye and nodded. He added a line instructing his treasury to add a 25 percent gratuity, and direct the funds to thedomainof Trondheim, and signed the bill. "Thank you, Sire," said Guya, bowing.

"No, thank _you_, Lady Guya," said Yuuri. "It's a perfect evening. You'll hold the gifts until dessert? Both mine and Bertram's?"

"Of course!"

Their first guest at the table was young Dietrich, Aldrich's son, bearing a gorgeously wrapped gift so squashed, he'd clearly brought it with him from Bielenfeld. They opened it to find two elegant stationery sets, the infamous Tark-o-grams of Joy, which Dietrich had commissioned just for each of them, personalized styles and colors to suit the man.

"I know I'm only your step-brother, and your step-brother-in-law. But I really liked it when you lived with us for the Conference. And I was hoping if I wrote to you, maybe you could write back? When you're not too busy."

"Oh, I'd love that, Diet!" cried Wolfram. They both gave the sweet little boy a big hug.

"Well, of _course_ my Yuu-chan will write back!" cried Shibuya Miko, bearing their soup. Dietrich grinned at Guya and left. This set the pattern for a while, a real guest who _ought_ to have been at their wedding, but wasn't, alternating with Guya's impersonations and food service.

The real guests were heart-warming. Trenton said his father had the wedding gift, and told them about how he and Dietrich washed the carrion-reeking mokonas this afternoon and danced with them. Brendan came bearing a set of fine elven steel steak knives, bought here of course, engraved with Yuuri Maou's _'Justice'_ kanji. He and Wolfram reminisced about his wedding with Hilde over 30 years ago, and how he'd do it again in a heartbeat. Friedrich had already sent them a wedding gift, but chatted about married life, and how after nearly six centuries of being married himself, he still found it one of the most rewarding areas of life to invest his time and attention. Garena was a bit awkward, but gave them a whistle like Efram's, that could call Tariel or Garena when blown in the woods. He said he'd speak to Yuuri more before they left.

Wolfram's half-brother Efram said he really missed them, and got tongue-tied. He tried to give them a sketchbook as a wedding gift, portraits he'd drawn of the treeborn babies. The sketches were excellent, but Wolfram refused to accept it, as far too precious. Instead he asked Efram to continue, and offered to pay to have it printed, and then take a _copy_, not the originals. This eventually was printed, the pictures interleaved with stories from the parents who adopted the babies, and was a runaway best seller throughout Shin Makoku and beyond. Yuuri and Wolfram got copy #1, autographed by the illustrator.

Erick had also already sent a gift, and wasn't family. But he came to make sure they were happy (and Guya hadn't gone too far overboard), and brought with him letters from the Lady Mayors of both Trond Hall and Boom Falls, making them honorary citizens for life. This was a rather big deal in Trondheim, since each member of a hall was essentially taken care of for life, and their dependents after them as needed. Not a particularly useful gift in practice, but quite impressive as thank-you notes.

In between the real guests, Guya kept them plied with excellent food and wine, and kept them in stitches with her impersonations of those not present. Wolfram was gasping for air at Shibuya Shouri's advice to his little brother, on strategies to defend his purity in the marriage bed.

And there the guests ended. At first this was fine. The lovers dug into their dinners, enjoyed the music. Wolfram told Yuuri at length what he was thinking about developing his career as a Lord. They talked about whether maybe they should cross-foster a child outside Blood Pledge Castle, to broaden the children's horizons, and deepen their own friendships as parents, cultivating couple-friends.

But as time passed, Yuuri noticed his beloved's eyes traveled more and more often to the door from which guests emerged. His mood grew subdued. The next time Guya dropped in on them, Yuuri drew her aside, and asked, "Ah, why haven't Manfred and Aldrich come to visit with us? I think… Wolfram's feelings are beginning to be hurt about that. Out of all of these people – well, besides Efram – _they_ were the ones who most should have been at our wedding, and weren't."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Sire. We haven't been able to locate them. We're still trying." So they held off on dessert a while, and took several turns around the dance floor. Then Yuuri gave Wolfram Bertram's chocolates – giving Bertram proper credit – and the stunning fire healer tourmaline broach, to which had been added matching ear studs since last Yuuri had looked in the box. Wolfram was delighted with the gifts. Guya had them in stitches with impersonated Bertram and Frieda commentaries on the gifts and dessert.

The plates were empty and they were discussing the sleigh ride back, when finally Manfred and Aldrich appeared, both looking stunningly beautiful and nearly liquid from their spa marathon. Aldrich and Wolfram admired each other's new jewelry, Wolfram's new furs, Aldrich's pretty new haircut. Manfred made noises that they ought to go, they were instructed to only visit for five minutes. But Wolfram and Yuuri wouldn't let them leave. They ended up talking for over an hour, the Shin Makoku royal couple drinking wine, the Bielenfeld royals drinking water.

But when Wolfram decided he wanted their sleigh to take them through the snow sculptures on the way back, Aldrich and Manfred laughed and said they'd rather stay warm and walk back to bed.

"This was a great idea, Chichiue, Aldrich," Wolfram said. "I'm glad we came on honeymoon together. I mean, all the other stuff that happened, too, of course, but… Even just us. I'm glad we came together."

Yuuri nodded. "Me, too. Actually, Wolfram and I were talking earlier, about cross-fostering. We were thinking that Blood Pledge Castle is convenient, but… Cross-fostering further away would enrich the children's lives, and ours. And Bertram, at least, is a von Bielenfeld… and Manfred's son as well as ours. We'd be honored if you'd consider…."

"We'd love it," said Manfred, and Aldrich nodded emphatically. "Might help you remember to _write_ and _keep in touch_, pr – Wolfram." They all laughed, and parted, with hugs all around, to enjoy their beds in private.

Their bedrooms were full of flowers. Yuuri sleeping through four days of his honeymoon was entirely forgiven, at least for tonight, by a beautiful blond husband who was very, _very_ pleased with him. And Yuuri was just as pleased with Wolfram, and very deeply in love.

-oOo-

_Well, this is probably too rough a draft, but I wanted to put it up for a 'Happy Valentine's Day!', so… One more chapter to close this, probably short. Any requests, speak now…_

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed!_

_Please review?_


	16. TarkoGrams of Joy

**Kyou Kara Maou – The Ghosts of Trondheim**

Summary: When the royal family goes on winter holiday to Trondheim, Yuuri and Murata must face the ghosts of Shinou and Daikenja's most tragic mistake.

**Chapter 16 – Tark-o-Grams of Joy**

Wolfram had been home a few weeks when he received his first letter from Dietrich. Aldrich's young son had elegant stationery, paper faintly marbled with pale yellow and blue, reminiscent of his hair, and edged boldly in royal blue and gold, with a metallic gold embossed _DvB_ over a stylized Bielenfeld royal phoenix.

Wolfram peered at the device more closely, and grinned. Yes, Dietrich had reshaped their proud royal phoenix to look like a duck.

_DvB, March 12th, Castle Bielenfeld_

_Dear Wolfram and Yuuri,_

_I hope you had a good trip home on the dragon. How long did Yuuri sleep after investing the fountain? We were worried about him. It was so funny when Wolfram fed Yuuri Troll Mother soup in his sleep!_

_I'm sorry I made such a scene when I found out my fathers were going to have babies together. I'm sorry I made Chichiue feel so bad, saying he wanted a better son, because he was afraid I'd go crazy like Hahaue. And then they got to fighting about me being so nervous. I see what Grandfather meant, that he hoped we never find out which of them has the worse temper. And then after you left, Brendan and Grandfather got into the fight too. Anyway, everybody made up by the time we left Trondheim._

_I'm not sorry about the result. Until the babies come, we're _'having a quiet life for a change,'_ so the four of us feel secure as a family. No Trenton, no nobility student guests, no trips, just us. I sleep between my fathers most nights. They smell so warm and green when they're happy! Manfred says you did that, too, Wolfram, when you were little. Do you remember? It's nice!_

_Without Trenton here, I'm taking nobility class with Efram and Kieran von Donaghie. I was scared at first about the older kids, but it's pretty easy. Well, it's hard for Kieran. It's not right, how Donaghie doesn't teach girls! Kieran's smart, too! We're doing our term project together, on the history of domain bail-outs. She's good at understanding the pride stuff. I'm better at accounting. _

_One of Efram's cousins from Krist said Manfred must be Kieran's real father, so Kieran should lose Donaghie. He and Efram got into a majutsu duel over it and got caught. So the professor stuck Efram with him as a partner, and assigned them to compare domain inheritance laws. What a boring topic. Chichiue offered to help, but they just got into another fight because the Krist refused help from a_ 'troll-elf-nymph, speaking of people who have no right to a domain!'_ I thought Chichiue would get mad, but he was gentle with Efram. He says everybody partners with their nemesis in nobility, it's part of the curriculum. I was afraid that meant I was Kieran's nemesis, but Chichiue said the professor probably had a different agenda for us._

_I ride to school with Manfred, and we talk. And I write twice a week to Brendan, too. That's how Brendan got into the fight, because he felt Manfred was trying to replace him. But Brendan is my foster father. I write Grandfather twice a week, too. I think they write with Chichiue, too. It helps. Brendan was here on business, and yesterday I took him sailing. He says I already seem much more relaxed. They say it'll take longer for Chichiue, because him being worried about me is a lot more complicated. But I know he loves me._

_We're already turning over the garden. Are you coming for the tree planting?_

_Love, _

_your brother, Dietrich_

"He's, ah, a very smart kid," said Yuuri, putting down the letter after he'd read it, feeling a bit intimidated.

"Well, wimp, he _is_ older than you are," suggested Wolfram. "But he's brilliant, no doubt about it." He remembered Dietrich's opening lines a moment too late.

Yuuri twitched. "You fed me troll in my sleep."

-oOo-

Brendan's eyebrows rose at the ultra-deluxe Tark-o-gram in his mail, dark brown with scarlet stripes, the Trondheim seal embossed in metallic scarlet on the front of the large card – a ten-legged salamander chomping its own tail, a Trond mystical symbol of the circle of life. The inside was professionally printed in bright metallic gold on the dark brown. Brendan whistled, and hoped his rich Uncle Friedrich had footed the bill.

This seemed likely, since Brendan didn't recall his Trondheim neighbors ever sending such an elaborate courtesy mass mailing to their fellow Aristocrats before. Franklin and his father had never really felt part of the club. And Alana didn't have a prayer of fitting in – Lady Trondheim wasn't the wife of Lord Trondheim, the way it worked in the other domains. But whether by fortunate timing with the Racial Accords conference, good counsel, or sheer personal charisma – or more likely all three combined – Erick had hit the ground running. His Aristocratic peers accepted him as an unapologetic Trond rather than a misfit Shin Makoku.

_Alana Lady Trondheim_

_and her husband, Lord Friedrich von Bielenfeld_

_are delighted to announce the marriage of their great-nephew_

_Erick Lord Trondheim_

_to_

_Guya'k'vriel of Twinhall_

_(now Lady Guya'k'vriel von Trondheim)_

_on February 10th of this year_

_at Trond Hall_

_on this same night, the couple was blessed_

_by a child of their own combined blood, by miraculous treebirth_

_Erick's new heir_

_Vlad'k'vriel von Trondheim_

_and born a few hours later, his full-blood ogre adoptive brother_

_Dannikin von Trondheim_

_if anyone is moved to send gifts_

_the couple suggests grain shipments or funding for same_

_for the populace of Trondheim_

_Nice touch, explaining how to properly address Guya and the kids,_ Brendan thought. They'd included a black and white printed portrait of the happy couple and babies, rather than explain that _'k'vriel'_ was an elf lineage, or what an ogre looked like. The picture didn't flinch from showing their racial mix. Which worked quite well – Erick and Guya's extraordinary good looks transcended race, and Vlad and Dannikin were just adorable. An additional piece of paper was included – plain white, in Erick's usual chunky writing, thick black letters nearly an inch tall.

_Hey, Bren!_

_Sounds like we've got 'issues' over range rights for those faun herds headed to settle in Gratz Pass. Twelve thousand head of cattle so far that I know of, twenty thousand sheep, plus etc. I'm thinking that all these beasts came from Wincott – maybe the two of us could sit down with Elliott von Wincott and hammer something out next Aristocrats'? I know this is my problem, but you're the expert on ranching, and I could sure use your advice. Just a head's up for now – I know you'll want to consult your ranchers before we cut any deals. Look forward to seeing you!_

_Your friend,_

_Erick_

Brendan sighed. He'd warned them that Freerie and company's herds, and feeding all those dragons, were going to be trouble. Ah, well, that's what they gave him the flashy title and cool castle for, right? And Erick made a very interesting point – those beasts _did_ come from Wincott, and they weren't dining _there_ anymore. Perhaps a simple northward shift of existing range rights would do the trick… He set the card aside for his wife Hilde to handle the felicitations and grain shipments, and pulled out his range maps.

-oOo-

"That's Wolfram's stationery I got him!" Dietrich said proudly at the dinner table, pointing to the letter by Manfred's place setting. Dietrich had received several letters from Wolfram already, though he'd also been at Castle Bielenfeld visiting for several weeks already.

Manfred smiled and spent a moment admiring the stationery, before opening the letter to read. Blue paper, gold edged, with a flame-healer-colored Beautiful Wolfram flower, over crossed swords, adorning each page – Dietrich had designed it well for Wolfram.

_WvB, May 20th, Walde Manor_

_Dear Chichiue,_

_Vespasian-sensei approved my public health thesis – _finally!_ Good timing, too, because I'm starting to get some interesting results. As you asked, I distributed the Vladimir water throughout Shin Makoku proper and the southern domains, with instructions, but of course getting healers to actually _use_ it is a little harder. _

_But not for long! Gwendal helped me arrange a healers symposium here at Walde Manor, for me to discuss the fountain waters. I invited Weller, Gratz, and Krist healers as well, via their Lords. The party was going well enough. But then a healer here at Walde Manor mentioned a newborn who was failing to thrive. We brought her in, and sure enough, the two Shinou vials did nothing, but the Vladimir water worked a miracle! So then he wanted to see whether the waters had any effect on the local alcoholic population, so we had all them troop into the symposium. Then a number of other chronic malaises, then nearby healers' mysteries. Anyway, you get the idea – mission accomplished! Twenty-odd more healers absolutely convinced that _all_ Mazoku need to be blessed with Shinou water, and Bielenfeld water, _and_ Vladimir water, all three, as standard procedure._

_No question about it – once-Trondheim ghosts are now reincarnating all over Shin Makoku, not just the tree babies in Trondheim. And they _need_ Vladimir water. And we're fairly sure that several patients have benefitted from more than one of the fountain vials. I'll send you a draft of my paper as soon as I've got it together – I'd love your input! – but in the meantime, I hope you'll be telling all your students? This isn't just a theory anymore._

_I've been getting reports, too, of major effects from all three waters on mental patients around Shin Makoku, but of course they need a lot of aftercare. Like Boom Falls, only more so. _

_You know, I keep thinking about Erick's monthly newsletters. We've still got the rosters from when Yuuri grounded all the Mazoku healers. With this treeborn business, and Vladimir water, and Ilya's new religion underway, I think we could use a newsletter for healers, to disseminate information and new techniques. If I start this up, would you / the Institute be willing to help? I'll need expert editors, from healing and public health / nobility. Could you ask around for me? I'll hit up Vespasian, of course._

_You know, I feel guilty saying this, because I love them so much! And I do miss them, but… Please tell Aldrich he was right. Taking a break from the kids and doing my own work really does make the heart grow fonder!_

_So, I'm back to BPC for a few weeks, then hopefully I'll have another symposium hosted by Uncle Stoeffel, to bring the good news to the southwest. Wish me luck!_

_Love,_

_your son, Wolfram_

Manfred laughed softly, shaking his head and putting aside the letter to eat. "Well, well. I think my firstborn may have found his vocation."

"Gone off the deep end, has he?" said Aldrich. "Good! Let's encourage him to overextend himself, and get in way over his head."

"You meant, _not to_, right?" asked Efram.

"Not at all," said Aldrich. "We've got the resources to do things that are worth doing. He can always lay on staff. Wolfram's an excellent supervisor. His troops and von Dienst were always telling me that. He needs – _scope._" A wave of the arm from floor to ceiling suggested how much _scope _Wolfram needed, something along the lines of _a kingdom or three_. "He gets a bit neurotic when he doesn't have enough to do. Astonishingly level-headed when things get crazy, though. Brilliant, very well organized."

"Well, I'll be sure to tell him that," agreed Manfred. "The part about having our backing, at least. The vixen's _conceited_ enough already."

Aldrich laughed out loud. "Yeah, wonder where he gets _that_ from."

Efram grinned. "His father _and_ stepfather _and_ mother _and_ everyone else in the family?"

Lord Howard – Aldrich's right hand man – said, "Doesn't it ever worry you, Aldrich, pushing your subordinates into more and more scope? That one of us might _eclipse_ you one of these days?"

Aldrich smiled back at his lifelong crony and rival. "Doesn't worry me a bit, Howard. _Bring it on. _And – pass the potatoes, please?"

-oOo-

"Excuse me, Sire," said a smiling guard, bowing to Yuuri at the dinner table. "But the packet downriver came late today." He offered the king an elegant mail pouch, oversized and stuffed. "I'll put the ordinary mail on your desks as usual, Sire. These were – _express delivery._"

A bemused Yuuri opened up the packet and passed out the largest, most ornate Tark-o-grams they'd ever seen – to Gwendal and Annissina, Conrad and Yozak, Günter, Cheri, and General von Dienst, as well as one for himself and Wolfram, and one individually addressed to Greta. _Flesh and steel_ – the 9x12 cards were silver with embossed pink roses, the Donaghie colors.

"Oh! So beautiful! So inspiring!" rhapsodized Günter.

"I sense inflationary pressure on these Tark-o-grams," muttered Gwendal.

Conrad grinned at him. "Indeed. Where will it end?"

Cheri playfully swatted them with her enormous card. "Oh, you two!"

_Squire Soujourn von Tarkenburg_

_and his wife Evrinne von Tarkenburg_

_invite you to join us to celebrate the wedding of our son_

_Sylvain Lord Donaghie_

_to_

_Kieran Lady Donaghie_

_on August 1rst of this year_

_at_

_Tarkenburg Manor_

_with a second reception to coincide with the_

_Grand Re-Opening of the Pitchblende Mines in Donaghie_

_February 20th of next year_

_please RSVP with number of people attending_

_at both events_

"Interesting math," commented Yozak. "Two weeks' notice for the wedding of the Lord and Lady _Donaghie_, in _Bielenfeld_, then a second reception seven months later in Donaghie?"

"Kieran's pregnant," chorused Yuuri, Wolfram, Annissina, and General von Dienst.

"Oh, dear cousin Danielle's baby girl! She's so _young!"_ mooned Cheri, eyes moist. Then in more a pragmatic tone, she added, "The wedding _has_ to be at Tarkenburg, Yozak. Kieran's poor father is there now, under healers' care. And Castle Donegal – who knows when they'll have the time and money to fix up _that_ old pile. And of course Soujourn and Evrinne are paying for everything."

"It's far more convenient for their friends, and for the eastern domain lords," agreed Squire von Dienst, himself one of Soujourn's peers. "But I hope Sylvain isn't finding out the same way we are."

Cheri covered a giggle with her hand. "Oh, my. I hadn't thought of that!"

Though busily traveling back and forth, for the most part Sylvain was living in Donaghie these days, rebuilding his new domain's economy, while Kieran studied in Bielenfeld. An express fancy Tark-o-gram would be a rather shocking summons to one's own wedding.

Greta stole up behind her fathers and gathered them both into a hug.

"Oh? And what are_ you_ after, Greta?" asked Yuuri.

"Going up to Tarkenburg a week early," wheedled Greta. She proudly held out her letter. "Efram and I are standing with Kieran at the wedding!" In full formal Mazoku weddings, both bride and groom had an unmarried pair of friends stand with them. "So, I'll need a dress…"

"No limit," proclaimed Wolfram, before Yuuri could set one. "Just make Kieran shine, won't you, love?"

Greta grinned widely, and gave Wolfram a kiss.

-oOo-

Yuuri eddied out of the crowds at the Donaghie wedding at the Tarkenburg Fairgrounds, and stood alone by the side of the small-kids play area. Guya played with her babies Dannikin and Vlad, and Yuuri's Bertram and Frieda, with Annissina and Gwendel's son Grendel, and Hilde von Gratz and her toddler Heidi. Erick von Trondheim had been paired with a female school friend of Sylvain's, to stand by Sylvain at the wedding, opposite Greta and Efram, looking resplendant alongside Kieran.

Aldrich joined Yuuri. "Wolfram said you wanted me, Sire?"

"Thank you, Aldrich." Yuuri waved him to a seat. "I believe you've set a new record, for the flashiest Bielenfeld suit I've ever seen," he said, with a smile. Aldrich had met Wolfram's very finest, and topped it with ruffles threaded with gold, _and_ all his military decorations, _and_ his gorgeous honeymoon tourmalines. As the wedding couple's marriage broker, Aldrich stood with Stoeffel and Cheri and her sons, for Kieran's otherwise missing family. They'd hoped to bring Kieran's father Dougal down to the ceremony. But Manfred had asked Kieran and Sylvain to visit with him _beforehand_, just in case. Manfred didn't really expect him to last the day.

Aldrich fingered his gold-shot ruffles. "Soujourn _specifically_ asked me to outdo myself. Old friends…" He shrugged. His eyes wandered the field, as though seeing memories of Soujourn von Tarkenburg amid other old friends aplenty. And some newer ones.

"Aldrich, I've been meaning to talk to you…" said Yuuri. "While we were in Trondheim, I had… an experience… a conversation with Shinou. That still bothers me. Shinou said he'd never have had the _cajones_ to do what I just did, restore all those races more powerful than demons. And a vision of… maybe a troll, maybe an ogre, being sworn in as Maou. And a dragon battle above the Escarpment. Other visions, other fears. And Shinou… laughed. Said I knew better than to tune into those channels…"

"_'Tune in to those channels'_, Sire?"

"Ah, sorry. Something… from my world. There are devices, where you just click a button, and switch from one entertainment to the next, until you find one you like. As though he were saying, it's as simple as that, just… keep sifting until you find a future you like. Aldrich… doesn't it worry you? What we've done? It worries some of my other Lords. A great deal." Some, indeed, had demanded Aldrich's head on a platter for treason, and left it implied that Yuuri was just as guilty.

Yuuri was grateful that Aldrich didn't laugh this off. He sat thoughtful, watching the babies at play. Eventually he said, "Someone said patriotism is a dangerous two-edged sword. Insofar as it's love of one's own, it's good. But insofar as it's _un_love of _other_, leading to _fear, _or even _hatred,_ it can be profoundly evil. For me… the people we saved are not _other._ Because I'm multi-racial. You've redeemed a great evil done to _my_ people, the trolls, the elves, the nymphs. You've restored their dignity, their lives, their souls. And as for my people the demons… Well, I imagine I'd be accused of being a salesman again, were this to come up at an Aristocrats' Summit."

"For instance," agreed Yuuri, both of them chuckling darkly. "The one in three weeks, for instance." _And it most certainly will come up. And Aldrich, you deserve every single accusation of being able to 'sell snow to the Tronds', and you know it._

"Though they won't bring it up _here_ at the wedding, I trust." Soujourn would kick them out on their asses, with Aldrich's enthusiastic backing, if any of the guest Lords dared to stir up racial controversy today. "Well, on the one hand, Sire, you've done immeasurable good. On the other hand… you've done no harm. Where's the damage? In the here and now, no demons have been harmed, by restoring the other races. Indeed, by restoring the nymphs, the demons have been enriched as well. Yields are up throughout Bielenfeld, and each of my neighbor domains, and that's half the kingdom. Is it any different in the southern half?"

"No… Yields are up throughout Shin Makoku," agreed Yuuri reluctantly. Aldrich was good at these sales pitches. It was like swimming upstream to launch an objection, but Yuuri managed it. "They're afraid, Aldrich. And – even Shinou suggested as much, that it's not unreasonable to be afraid of these races, if they really are more powerful. Um, are they?"

Aldrich met his eye, gently. "Yes, Sire. You know they are. But – is that a valid damage? The good we've done is real, has happened. Their _fear,_ hasn't happened, it's a projection of what _might_ happen. You haven't _harmed_ demons, just because they say they are afraid of what _might_ happen."

"But some fears are worth taking seriously," said Yuuri. "Some fears are worth working to avert."

Aldrich nodded slowly, and looked away. "Yet… If you take them too seriously, they can become self-fulfilling prophecies. Fear is a terrible master. Sire… Yuuri… I may be the opposition leader, but, in some ways I'm your biggest fan in the Aristocrats. Some accuse you of being…" _an idiot,_ "too innocent, the way you trust, and believe in people. But at the risk of sounding like Günter, I find your leadership inspiring. And yet, on such a beautiful day, the joyous celebration of my god-daughter's wedding, to the son of one of my dearest friends… you seem bewitched by some… _fear_. Why is that?"

"Ah, it's not _me!_" denied Yuuri. "It's…" _Is it? _he thought. _Is it just the other lords? Maybe… not._ "Ah, I was going to say it's them, not me, but… One of the visions, was of a great battle of dragons above the Trondheim Escarpment, a little elf girl with her clothes ablaze, screaming for help. I can't shake that vision off."

Aldrich looked at him in concern. "Yuuri, if you look out across this splendid wedding, and instead see_ that_, you do indeed need to resolve this. And I hope you'll do it soon. Because if that vision is contagious, if you spread it among my brother Lords… It might as well be you yourself lighting that child on fire."

Yuuri wheeled on him in kneejerk reaction, heart hammering, in horror. But Aldrich just gazed at him evenly, in compassionate concern. Yuuri dropped his eyes and took a few steadying breaths to let his heart stop thumping quite so hard. "Thank you, Lord Aldrich. Yes, I see what you mean."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, Sire," said Aldrich gently. "It's too bad you don't have one of those tuning-in-channel-button things, isn't it. Perhaps you'd do better talking to a full nymph, instead of a quarter nymph. Manfred."

"Manfred?" Yuuri asked, puzzled.

"Yuuri," said Manfred, joining them. "_Shamshesh allem_."

"_Shamshesh allem,_" echoed Aldrich, with a sigh – the first words of the Trond prayer for the dead. "Dougal's passed then? Well, that's a blessing, that seeing Kieran wed was enough for him to let go." Dougal had been gravely ill and in pain for decades. "Have you told Kieran and Sylvain yet?"

"No, I'm collecting you and Cheri, and Soujourn and Evrinne," said Manfred. "I think I should bow out, and let the four of you tell Kieran? If you'll excuse us, Sire."

"You'll be alright, Yuuri?" said Aldrich in concern.

"Yes," said Yuuri. "Thank you, Aldrich. That was very helpful." Aldrich frowned in doubt, but Yuuri smiled and bid him go on.

_What did I expect Aldrich to do? Or say?_ thought Yuuri. _Convince me not to be afraid, perhaps? _His eye happened across baby Vlad, more than half-elf, sun visor snug behind his adorably pointy little ears, and Yuuri swallowed. _I'll protect you. Starting with… I'll protect you from _me_. Aldrich's right. From now until the Aristocrats' Meeting, I'll practice believing 100 percent in a positive vision of the future. And if these doubts are still haunting me after that… Then I'll do whatever it takes to lay them to rest. But if these fears are contagious, at least no one will catch them from _me

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw Lord Krist, ruler of the most racist domain of them all, and thus the most worried of them all, drifting his way. Yuuri hurriedly knelt down to join the children. Even Lord Krist wouldn't mention racial fears to a king playing among this mixed racial lot of babies.

-oOo-

For such an intimate occasion as a baby birthing, the "small family gathering" at Castle Bielenfeld in late October, was quite a throng. Gwendal and Annissina and Günter had missed all the tree birthings in Trondheim, so of course had to come along. Conrad and Yozak came as well. Brendan von Gratz's whole family was there, and Adelbert, as Manfred's best friend. Alana's advanced pregnancy prevented her from coming. But Friedrich and Garena flew in from Trondheim on a dragon, to make a quick trip of it. They summoned Tariel, who brought along his short friend Salix and another, on the tall side, with red-brown hair and huge brown eyes, whom they introduced as Quercus.

Lord Howard joined them, with Cheri in tow. He'd gone above and beyond the call of duty these last months, both covering for Aldrich's long hours in the garden, and hosting the avid gardener Cheri, and keeping her out of Aldrich's hair. Cheri'd been hard pressed to limit herself to visiting _only_ every month since the saplings were planted. Aldrich and Manfred's senses of humor on this topic were growing a tad… _brittle_.

For the birth of the first biological Shibuya grandchild, Yuuri had brought his parents Shouma and Miko, and his brother Shouri, here from Earth. Conrad and Yozak were doing their best to keep them company, and rather separated from Cheri and Gwendal.

Yuuri and Wolfram, and Aldrich and Manfred, drew together rather self-consciously, with the saplings in the center of this sheltered garden, at the heart of Aldrich's box-hedge maze. The stranger Quercus had been studying the saplings – especially the strange Japanese maple at the center – rather intently, but drew aside with his fellow nymphs to cede the incipient parents center stage.

"So," said Yuuri. "How shall we do this? It's your garden, Aldrich – perhaps your children first?"

Aldrich said, "I'd prefer yours first. Then I can give ours my full attention. Unless you'd prefer Garena or Tariel…?"

In answer, Wolfram put his arms around Manfred and Aldrich and drew them all to the Japanese maple. Then he shared a deep kiss and warm smile with Yuuri, and murmured, "Let's call our child?"

And so they stood, Wolfram in Yuuri's arms, as Aldrich summoned a huge ball of life maryoku from the tree, far better practiced than he'd expected to be for this event. And as the energy coalesced into a baby girl, Manfred cut the umbilical cord, and watched, bemused again, as the inexplicable cord retracted into the slender Japanese maple. The happy grandfather then anointed her with drops of water from three different vials – to no visible effect. And Yuuri held out his arms to claim his daughter.

"Welcome, Momijiko," he murmured, with a warm smile. "Oh, you're so beautiful!" At this, all the friends and family drew inward to get a better look. Yuuri's family kept advancing. The Mazoku… stopped.

"Oh! She looks just like my little Yuu-chan!" cried Miko in delight. "Uma-chan, doesn't she look like Yuu-chan?"

Shouma thought she looked like a scrunched up newborn and not much like anybody, but he nodded, smiling on cue. Shouri hovered by his side, also nodding, also trying to look pleased, trying not to imagine what exactly Wolfram might have done to his innocent baby brother in order for this biological result to happen.

"Ah, Wolfram? Take the baby," urged Yuuri.

Wolfram reluctantly held out his arms and took her, frowning. "She, um, does. Look entirely like you, Yuuri. Why doesn't this child look like me?"

"Well, she's Eurasian," suggested Shouri.

"My. _What?_" Wolfram bit out.

"Ah, on Earth people who look like, _you_, are European, and like _us_, are Asian," explained Yuuri, shouldering in front of Shouri and hoping he'd take the hint. "So, a combination is called Eur-asian, haha."

"In what way is she a _'combination'_," demanded Wolfram.

"Well, look, her hair is brown, not black," said Yuuri. Wolfram inspected hair which was a brown so dark as to be indistinguishable from black. "And her eyes are… brown." Wolfram peered into barely-open eyes so dark as to be indistinguishable from black. "And her skin is… lighter than mine." Wolfram just stared at Yuuri. "Aha, ah, Greta, Bertram, Frieda, come meet your new sister, Momijiko!"

Efram pushed forward too. "Mm, Frieda, doesn't she look like Chichiue Wolfram?"

"No," answered Frieda, looking up at him puzzled.

Yuuri glared at him, and got Efram's best pixie smile in response.

Manfred told Efram, "First warning, fire pixie."

"Well, Yuuri's dark Asian genes are dominant," suggested Shouri. He was only trying to help.

"_Dominant?_" barked out Wolfram.

"Aha! _Baka, Shouri!_" said Yuuri. "Ah, Wolfram – it's just a biological term… Dominant in a… scientific sense, not… social or… otherwise, haha!"

"Do fire pixies have wings?" Miko inquired of Efram.

"Oh! She's the most beautiful child!" praised Günter, finally managing to edge his way past the other Mazoku. "She looks exactly like her magnificent father!" He looked a bit hurt when Gwendal elbowed him in the ribs.

"Do you recognize her, Uncle Friedrich?" Manfred asked. Friedrich had a knack for recognizing reincarnated souls – he'd known a great many people over his eight centuries, most of them dead now.

Friedrich went over and touched the baby's brow, and nodded. "Yes, certainly. Welcome back, old friend, now Mo-mi-ji-ko." He stumbled a bit over the peculiar name. "Does that mean something?"

"'_Maple child'_," said Yuuri. "Ah, does she have a… Bielenfeld soul?"

"No," said Friedrich. "Nor any maryoku, to speak of. She seems a perfectly healthy half-human." This was in no way good news to the Bielenfelders. Though allowed to visit, and treated kindly, humans and half-humans were forbidden to reside in Bielenfeld. Wolfram's face fell even further as he realized his daughter couldn't be cross-fostered with Aldrich and Manfred – it would be illegal for them to do so.

"Yes, Mama Miko, fire pixies fly quite well," answered Efram, into the silence. "I can show you my drawings of the fire pixies in Trondheim when we go in."

"Yuu-chan? Could you have had a baby with wings?" said Miko. "Why did you marry Woofu-chan instead of someone who could give you a baby with wings?"

"Ah, Miko –" Shouma said, trying to silence his wife.

"_Woofu,_" parroted Greta, Efram, Dietrich, Trenton, and Frieda in chorus. "_Wolfs_ say _Woof,_" Frieda elaborated, with a giggle. "Woof-woof!" agreed Bertram, giggling along, though he didn't really get the joke.

Adelbert scooped up Frieda. Manfred said, "_Second_ warning, fire pixie…"

Yuuri pointedly ignored his mother, who was arguing with her husband about how she'd only married a demon hoping Shouri or Yuuri would have wings.

The perfect stranger Quercus leaned over Wolfram's shoulder, Wolfram shrinking away in discomfort. Quercus tapped baby Momijiko on the nose, with a flare of brilliant blue light. "The maryoku was just latent," he explained. "Is that better?"

"Ah, yes, thank you," said Wolfram, looking even more uncomfortable. Quercus nodded affably and retreated, to study Aldrich and Manfred's saplings.

"Perhaps Yuuri and Wolfram's guests should go inside," suggested Gwendal rather loudly, "and allow Aldrich and Manfred to birth their children."

Wolfram looked stricken at the idea of being excluded, but Manfred pounced on the suggestion. "Good idea! We'll see you inside soon! Yes, good-bye!"

Yuuri and Conrad concentrated on herding Yuuri's squabbling family out of the maze, while Gwendal and Günter collected the reluctant Cheri and Bertram and Frieda and Greta, Lord Howard lending a helping hand, to a profound look of gratitude from Aldrich.

Manfred drew Aldrich into an embrace and long kiss. Then with Efram and Dietrich assisting, they gave birth first to a boy – Avram – then a girl – Margritte – from the tender young plum and cherry trees flanking the Japanese maple.

"Oh, yes," said Friedrich, looking especially moved. "These are indeed Bielenfeld souls, home again. Tariel, Garena?" They too touched the children. Tears came to their eyes, and Friedrich and Garena astonished them by exchanging a hug and a nod. From which Aldrich and Manfred concluded, but never spoke aloud, that one of their children was the reincarnation of their Aunt Emeraude, Friedrich and Garena's twin sister, dead before Aldrich was born.

The two new fathers settled each with a baby in arms, swaddled in fine soft blue and gold, on the lawn chairs where they'd spent so much time the past months sitting and talking. Each of the remaining guests came up to visit with them, most, including Aldrich's foster son Trenton, taking the babies into their arms briefly.

"So where are the baskets?" Brendan asked Efram and Dietrich. "You_ did_ make them baskets, didn't you?"

The boys grinned and took off to fetch their handiwork. Efram appeared first, with a double basket-stand and over-shoulder double basket he'd devised with Aldrich for the babies. Dietrich, aided by Manfred's engineering flair, appeared with a double baby carriage, topped with two removable baby baskets. They admired these, then settled in, Efram and Avram on Manfred's lap, Dietrich and Margritte with Aldrich. Friedrich sketched them as a family, to show Alana.

Eventually, Tariel approached. "We leave soon. First we show Quercus the other seeds. Need Yuuri and Wolfram." Adelbert went in to fetch them, as Aldrich reluctantly drew out a pouch containing many ordinary seeds, but four special ones, those that had been growing in him through all the magic in Trondheim. Tariel had told them not to plant these, that he wanted a great nymph to see them. Momijiko in Yuuri's arms, Wolfram also produced a pouch of seeds, and four more of the special ones, practically pulsating with life maryoku.

"Are they… also children?" he asked. Yuuri noted sadly that Wolfram was hoping the strange nymph would say _'no'_. Once, Wolfram had been hell-bent to plant all eight of these alongside the three child-seeds they'd planned to plant this spring. Yuuri kissed Momijiko tenderly.

Quercus didn't answer at first, simply gazing at the seeds. Then he said, "Yuuri, you are from a different world, yes? It is in grave danger. Great violence and hatred among the people, yes, but also… like the natural world is sick, poisoned, has a fever of some kind?"

The others looked at Yuuri in surprise when he agreed. They'd taken for granted that Yuuri's homeworld was all advanced magic and miraculous peace. Wasn't that why he'd been born there, to learn how to be a peace-making king?

Quercus nodded. "These seeds are a gift for the other Maou. Bring him to me." When Shouri arrived, Quercus explained where he wanted the seeds planted on Earth, beginning with Miko and Shouma's house in Tokyo, and Shouri's headquarters in Switzerland and New York. "Be sure that all demon tribe know where the trees are. In times of grave danger, they should meet there, to retreat to this world for safety."

"Can I use them as a gate, the way my brother can travel between worlds?" asked Shouri.

"No, only to call for help," said Quercus. "Yuuri helps you travel. But the trees also help the illness on your world. Not… enough, by themselves. But they will help. And nymphs can use the trees to travel. We will consider whether to help."

"I help," said Tariel. Salix nodded agreement.

Quercus appeared unaffected by their choice. Compared to the power of the great nymphs, versus an illness the size of a planet, perhaps little Tariel and Salix's actions meant very little. "Yuuri also has a fear. A vision on the Escarpment," Quercus said, laying a hand on Yuuri's arm.

Yuuri's eyes flew wide at the touch, and he remembered where he'd heard the name Quercus before. _Shinou! Shinou said I needed to open a dialogue with Quercus! When I saw that vision… And he told me I knew better than to tune into a horror movie?_ Unfortunately, none of it had made sense to Yuuri at the time. But Quercus' touch seemed… vastly familiar in some way.

Quercus nodded. "You try to set this aside, but it comes back. You try to minimize it, but in your thinking, it grows, and then it grows in the future, too. You and I work on this. You have a whistle, from Garena. Make time. Then call me. That is a future you must stop. Yes?"

"Yes," breathed Yuuri.

And Quercus disappeared. Tariel and Salix disappeared as well, before anyone could ask them any questions. Aldrich looked at Yuuri in concern. He'd hid it so well, Aldrich thought Yuuri'd resolved his fear visions before the Aristocrats' Summit months ago. Yuuri ducked his head and headed back inside with Shouri and the baby.

Manfred stopped Wolfram from following, and drew him aside into another part of the box-hedge maze. He held his son's eye with his green gaze and said, "Just admit it, pretty vixen. Face it, feel it, and then you can let it go."

This was the first time since that day in Trondheim that Manfred had called Wolfram _'pretty vixen'_, and it smarted. "I don't know what you're talking about, Chichiue."

Manfred stared at him a moment, and decided to back off a little. "You know," he opened philosophically, "when you were born, I regretted so painfully that Cheri and I weren't married, that I couldn't bring you home proudly, show you off to Friedrich and Aldrich and my mother. Instead of you being my pride and joy, it was like you were some dirty little secret, something that shamed even the Maou. And though that's really what I felt, I refused to feel it, refused to admit it, even to myself. Because I shouldn't feel that way."

Wolfram flushed and turned away, feeling a burn of shame himself. "You're right. You shouldn't have felt that way!"

"Absolutely. Agreed," said Manfred. "But the thing is – I still did, feel that way. And though I loved you, and no matter how much I _refused_ to be ashamed of you, every time I looked at my beautiful, wonderful son, I still felt that shame."

"Do you still?" Wolfram whispered.

"Not at all," said Manfred. "Aldrich made me face it, feel it, admit it, and then I was able to let it go. It lost its hold on me. Instead of love-resist-shame'ing you, I was free to simply love you, without the resist-shame part polluting things."

Wolfram thought about this, his mind working like chilled molasses. "You're saying… I should…"

"How do you feel about Momijiko?" Manfred prompted, barely above a whisper.

"I can't… I won't… Oh, Chichiue, I do! I feel… disappointed. And I am so disgusted with myself for that! I finally have a child with the man I love, and she looks _nothing_ like me, and _no_ child of ours will be like me! And…" the tears started flowing, "the little maryoku doesn't make any difference, does it? She's still only half-Mazoku. She shouldn't be fostered here with Margritte, should she?"

"My grand-daughter is always welcome here," murmured Manfred. "We'll love her and treasure her, and look forward to her visits. But as a cross-fostering… no. She's better off with Frieda. And Margritte would be better off with Friedrich and Alana's daughter. You remember how it felt, when Conrad grew up too fast, out of reach." The child Wolfram hadn't been free to admit that, either, not at home with Cheri and his brothers. Only visiting Manfred and Aldrich was he free to rail against Conrad's half-human blood. "I hope you'll still be willing to cross-foster Avram and Bertram?"

Wolfram gave in to his sobs, falling into his father's arms. He cried until he was done, all wrung out. Then he pulled away and nodded. "Thank you, Chichiue. That helped. Yes, I'd like very much for Bertram and Avram to be cross-fostered. I barely even saw him. He looks like Diet, doesn't he?"

Manfred smiled and nodded. "And like you. He'll be a fire healer, of course."

"Of course," Wolfram smiled. "OK. I think I'm ready to do this right, now."

Everyone had wandered inside by now. Wolfram strode up to Yuuri, and said, "_I'll_ take Ekaterin now, thanks, Yuuri. And the bottle."

"Ah – what?" said Yuuri.

"Well, wimp, you hold a baby like a football, you always have, hasn't he Bertram? Yes, Wimpue plays a little too rough with a newborn. Here's your bottle, Ekaterin."

"_Momijiko_," asserted Yuuri. "We agreed –"

"I changed my mind. Momumblijoke is too hard to say. And my sweetling is too pretty for that, aren't you, Ekaterin? Frieda? Come here and help Chichiue feed your little sister?"

Manfred put a hand on Yuuri's shoulder, and murmured, "Just say _'yes, dear'_. It's an improvement. Right, Yuuri?"

"Aha," said Yuuri. "Right. Well. Shouri! Let's get a birthday family portrait!"

-oOo-

And soon, two more Tark-o-grams of Joy were making the rounds. The Shibuyas and the von Bielenfelds followed Erick's lead, and both included a family portrait in their deluxe birth announcements. Wolfram's, of course, had to outshine Erick's, though Aldrich and Manfred opted for something closer to parity.

Manfred saved the portraits, and when Kieran and Sylvain's came, had them lovingly mounted in a 3-panel frame, to stand on his and Aldrich's dressing table – Manfred and Aldrich in the center with their four younger children, their two elder children on the sides, each with their spouses and children. Like Yuuri's favorite family photo on his desk, it was politically incorrect as hell. So they kept it in their bedroom, and enjoyed having all their children together in private.

Whatever reservations Wolfram had left about little Ekaterin, vanished the moment his and Yuuri's shirts came off, and they snuggled the baby to their bare chests to give her a bottle for the first time. He fell in love all over again, with Yuuri, and with the baby. She never did grow to look even remotely like Wolfram. But she was the only one of their children who looked like Yuuri, the man Wolfram loved. And that was more than good enough for him.

-oOo-

The End.

-oOo-

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I'm amazed. This story's gotten nearly as many reviews as my most popular story ever!_

_Please review?_

_And after you've reviewed, we've got _**New Illustrations!!! **_(You can review those, too!) So go to author's profile, homepage link, click on through to the illustrations page… We have:_

_1. Bananam00n's awesome _**Old Friends**_ – from this story! and_

_2. A portrait of _**Dannikin**_ the fire ogre! and new portraits of **Dietrich** and **Trenton**._

**3. The Fully Justified Kick**_ – finally finished from Epilogue – with the guests!_

_And click on through to Bananam00n's place on deviantArt, as well, to see her non-Jinjyaa-fanfic illustrations!_


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